Vulnerability
by TikiPrincess
Summary: Angel left Sunnydale and Buffy so that she could have a normal life. But Buffy's not normal. Neither are the Winchesters. A crossover twist of BtVS 4.03 - The Harsh Light of Day. Some language and suggestive content. Updates Thursdays.
1. Chapter 1: Buffy

**Author's Note: **Thanks to all of you who have followed and/or favorited. Special thanks to my beta readers Katrina and isugirl!

**Warning: **Rated T for language.

**Disclaimer: **Buffyverse owned by Joss Whedon. Supernatural owned by Eric Kripke.

* * *

**Chapter One: Buffy**

Buffy had hoped that going to UC Sunnydale would include going to the type of college bars that she saw on TV shows and movies that weren't about frat houses. Unfortunately, the bouncers at those bars hadn't gotten the memo and were strictly enforcing the 21 and over age limit. Hence the return to Sunnydale's only underage-friendly establishment worth going to: The Bronze. Willow was playing groupie-slash-roadie for Oz's band "Dingoes Ate My Baby," so Buffy had come to support her best friend. Sitting on tall bar stools and drinking fruity mocktails helped keep up the illusion that this was still a cool club instead of a teenage hangout.

"Hey, look," Willow said, nodding towards the pool tables behind Buffy. "Parker's here. You're not looking? He looks really cute in green."

"Teal," she replied. Willow's eyes widened, and Buffy could tell that she was trying to figure out if Buffy had gotten into magic or if her Slayer powers had developed to the point of eyes actually sprouting from the back of her head. Buffy smiled and pointed to a round security mirror above their heads. "He's reflected in the mirror."

She watched as Parker Abrams' reflection leaned over the pool table. His thick brows drew together as he concentrated on his next shot. The intensity of his expression was doing all sorts of fluttery things in her stomach. It was so different than what she'd seen from him so far. When she was with him, he was all smiles and warm brown eyes. Warm everything, actually. He'd held her hand while they were watching a movie and she'd nearly died of embarrassment when her palm started to get sweaty. But he acted like it was normal. Because it _was_ normal for living, breathing men who haven't been a vampire for the last two hundred years or so.

"You know, when you spend all week with a boy, you are allowed to look at him directly," Willow teased.

"Not all week. We hung out. Moderately incessantly. But we're not here together tonight. You know, I don't want to crowd him."

Willow nodded, but Buffy didn't think she really understood. Willow had Oz. And he was just so... Oz. Like he didn't care if she did something silly or embarrassing because, for one, he adored Will and, two, he was so cool that everything uncool was instantly transformed into coolness.

Not that Parker wasn't cool. It's just that sometimes Buffy said stuff without thinking it through and he'd get this confused look on his face. She'd laugh off her comment, usually some morbid observation about human anatomy or medieval weaponry, and give him some lame excuse. He'd run his hand through his thick black hair, give her an uncertain chuckle. And she'd remember that she was a Slayer, _the_ Slayer, instead of a normal girl.

But it's not like Willow and Oz were the picture of a normal couple either. Willow was a redheaded witch whose boyfriend had a furry problem. It's just that their problem didn't prevent them from being... together. Except for three nights every month when the moon was full. The _only_ time Buffy got to be together with Angel, he'd turned evil and tried to start the Apocalypse. So he'd left. His graduation gift to her: a chance for a normal life. With a normal guy like Parker.

Buffy was so lost in her thoughts that she almost didn't notice that the music had stopped. Oz was taking off his guitar and making his way towards them through the cheering crowd.

"Hey," he said. "You guys ready to load up and go?"

"Almost. Buffy's looking at Parker." Willow pointed to Parker's image in the mirror. "Who, it turns out, has a reflection, so big plus there. Buffy's having lusty wrong feelings."

"No I'm not."

"No, you're not." Buffy had expected Willow to tease her about how _not_ lusty her feelings were because now that they were roommates, she knew exactly how lusty her feelings actually were. But Willow got all big-eyed and had her "connect-the-dots" face instead.

"Oh, I so am," said Buffy in her guilty voice.

"No, uh, they're not wrong feelings 'cause you're free, you're both grown-ups." Willow gave her another look. As if she knew that not all of those late-night dreams had been about Parker. "You are free, right?"

Before Buffy could blurt out something that her heart didn't feel, Parker placed his hand gently on her shoulder.

"Hi."

"Hi."

And just like that, the flutters in her stomach got all fluttery again. She knew he'd seen her earlier. She'd caught him glancing in her direction while she'd been watching the mirror. But he hadn't come over to talk, and she didn't think he would. Until now. He said, "I just wanted to let you know I'm headed out. And it's not real safe here, so if you want to walk back to your dorm..."

"How silly of me not to have planned ahead." Buffy smiled at his chivalrous gesture. It's not like he knew how many demons and vamps she'd slain _inside_ this club over the years, let alone on the route to the dorms. He was so... normal. But a very _sweet_ normal guy who wanted to protect her from getting ravished. Maybe Buffy would reward his gallantry by ravishing him. Willow smiled, and Buffy couldn't help thinking that her best friend had followed her exact train of thoughts. She only hoped her face wasn't as red as it felt.

"Bye," said Willow as she headed back to the stage with Oz to help load out the band's equipment.

"See you guys," Parker said. He put his arm possessively around Buffy's waist and headed to the main exit.

"Aren't you going to give me a chance to earn my money back?"

Buffy turned around, looking for the guy who'd issued the challenge. She spotted Parker's opponent from earlier that evening. He was leaning against the pool table with a smirk that looked far too comfortable on his face. His eyes traveled over her, from the bare skin exposed by her off-the-shoulder top to Parker's hand tightening around her, and finally down to her black leather skirt. There was something animalistic about his gaze that made her feel like she was his prey. Then he winked. As if he was quite confident that he would catch his quarry.

"How about we double the stakes? It's an extra fifty bucks if you win."

Buffy could see the hesitation in Parker's eyes and tried to pull him towards the exit, but he shook her off. "It alright, Buffy. I've beaten him once already. I'm sure I can do it again. He's practically begging me to take his money."

He returned to the pool table and dropped a couple of bills on it. Buffy debated whether she should yell at him now for leaving her like this or just walk out the door and forget about Parker Abrams with his false gestures of gallantry. It's not like she needed him and his chivalrous...ness. She also didn't need his tall, macho jerk of an opponent to walk up to her with a confident swagger in his hips and ask her name in a low, husky voice.

"I'm Buffy." She was surprised by how pleasant she sounded when all she wanted to do was punch the smug smile off his face. He was ruining the romantic walk under the starlight moment of her otherwise perfect non-date. The rest of her body was determined to be just as traitorous as her voice, however, since her lips curled into a smile while she stuck her hand out to him.

"Buffy? I'm Dean Winchester," he said, surprise creeping into his voice. Luckily for him, he didn't make any comments about her name and simply took her hand in his. He leaned closer, pitching his voice even lower in what must have been an attempt to be seductive, and told her, "If I were him, I wouldn't let the _chance_ of winning fifty bucks pry me from your side."

Was he actually hitting on her? Buffy couldn't believe the nerve of this guy. As if she could forget that he was the one who challenged Parker and ruined her night. _He's right, though,_ she told herself. _Parker could have walked away_.

"I'm really sorry," said Dean. She must have been giving him the death glare because he sounded sincere. Which meant that her body was finally under control. "Why don't I buy you a drink?"

"Fine." And there it went again, saying things she didn't mean and moving in directions she didn't want to go. "I guess I'll have an iced tea."

"Great! My little brother Sammy's sitting over there. Tell him you want a Long Island."

* * *

_Next up _**Chapter 2: Sam **Sixteen-year-old Sam wants to know what college is like. And Parker's a douche.

**A/N:** Love it? Hate it? Let me know by leaving a review!


	2. Chapter 2: Sam

**A/N:** This is my first fanfic, so I'd love it if you would leave a little feedback. Thanks to all of you who have followed and favorited. And special thanks to my beta reader, Katrina.

******Warning: **Rated T, but may go up depending on how descriptive I get down the road. For those of you who've seen the episode, you know exactly what part I'm talking about.

**Disclaimer: **Buffyverse owned by Joss Whedon. Supernatural owned by Eric Kripke.

* * *

**Chapter Two: Sam**

Sam watched his brother try to coax the pretty blond girl back to the table. "Hi," he was probably saying. "I'm a ruggedly handsome dude who totally objectifies you. But that's okay because I'm flashing you the Dean Winchester dimples."

Surprisingly, she glared at him instead of getting all shy and giggly or smoldering and sexy like most other girls did when Dean turned on the charm. Sam bit back a smile. Maybe Dean wasn't as irresistible as he'd like to believe. But that wasn't true. Sam was pretty sure his older brother could charm the pants off a nun. Which meant that she was different.

He'd noticed her the minute she walked into the club with her friend, but she had only glanced at the pool table before sitting down to watch the band. Which was sad because the band really sucked. So it made him feel better when the guitar player went to their table after their set and kissed the blond girl's friend. It definitely made more sense that she'd be there to support her friend instead of a crappy band.

But someone like her wouldn't notice an awkward, lumbering sixteen-year-old kid, anyways. Except that Dean was pointing towards him and she was walking in this direction. He ran his hand through his shaggy brown hair, wondering if he should slide off the stool. He'd look like a total fool if she walked past him to the bathroom or something, but it was good manners to stand when a lady joined the table, wasn't it?

"Hi Sammy," she said, extending her hand. He stood up and took her hand. He thought it would be small and delicate like the rest of her, but her fingers were slightly calloused and her grip was firm. "I'm Buffy Summers. Your brother is detaining my escort home, so he promised me a drink. I wanted an iced tea, but your brother said something about Long Island. I didn't know New York had it's own tea. That's where Long Island is, right?"

"I think so," Sam said, finally finding his voice. "I'll go ask the bartender."

He stumbled to the bar, trying to avoid stepping on anyone's toes with his massive feet. He hated puberty. Just when he thought he'd gotten used to his body, he started another growth spurt. Already he was as tall as Dean, and it didn't look like he was going to stop.

He waved over the bartender, ordering a Long Island for Buffy and a soda for himself. Dean had slipped the guy a twenty when he opened up their tab, standard practice to ensure quick service. It also meant he wouldn't look too closely at Dean's fake ID. Besides, Dean was almost 21 and had been drinking Dad's beer since... well, as long as Sam could remember. Dad had offered to change Sam's age when they made the last batch of fake IDs, but Sam doubted anyone would believe he was old enough to drink despite his height.

Drinks in hand, he returned to Buffy, who was watching her date and Dean play. The college boy was total shit at pool. It had taken all of Dean's considerable hustling skills to give the guy a win in the last round. Sam glanced over at the table, noticing that Dean was trying to prolong the game. He wasn't trying to sink in his own balls, but he wasn't helping his opponent either. Not that it would have helped.

"So is Long Island in New York, then?"

"Huh?" Sam looked up to see Buffy sucking her drink through a straw. "Umm... yeah. I guess so. I saw the guy add a splash of coke. Maybe that's what makes it different."

"Mmmm, that's yummy. So what brings you to Sunnydale, Sammy?"

_Mysterious deaths_, thought Sam. _Indications of demonic presence. The high school blowing up._

"I'm going to college in a couple of years, so I wanted to check out UC Sunnydale," he said, giving her the same cover story he'd given all night. It actually wasn't that far from the truth, since he really did want to check out the campus and look into the curriculum. But his father and brother didn't know about that.

"Hey, I go there. Lemme just say that roommates from hell really, really suck. Especially when they borrow your clothes without asking, label all their food just because you took a splash of milk, and force you to ingest animal blood." Buffy's eyes widened as if she realized what she'd said. Sam wasn't exactly sure he'd heard her correctly either. Ingest animal blood? "But now I'm rooming with my best friend, Willow, so things are much better."

"Willow? Was she the redhead you were with earlier?"

Buffy nodded. "So you noticed us, huh?"

"N-no," Sam stammered. "I mean, yeah, but I wasn't..." He saw Buffy smile and realized that she was teasing him. So he decided to flash his own Winchester dimples and said, "How could I not?"

"You're going to be quite the heartbreaker one day, Sam Winchester." She was laughing, but her words seemed sincere. Her eyes traveled over him as if she was imagining the future Sam Winchester. He hoped she liked what she saw. "This is my first semester at UC Sunnydale, so I don't know much. But I might know a few things that aren't in those glossy brochures they send out. What do you want to know?"

Sam knew he should be asking questions related to demon activity. But with Dean occupied, he thought it might be his only chance to ask the questions about college that he really wanted to know. "What's it like being on your own for the first time? Being away from your family and friends?"

"And you had to ask the one question I can't answer," she said with a half-smile. "My mom lives a couple miles from here. I go home twice a month to do laundry and sometimes twice a week to eat. And Willow's been my best friend since I moved here three years ago."

"So, you went to high school here in Sunnydale?" Sam raised his voice a little so that Dean could hear him. Dean rolled his eyes and nodded, code for "I gotta drag this out more?"

"I know. College is supposed to be about gaining your independence and embracing new experiences, but I'm staying in my hometown where everything is familiar." Her lower lip stuck out when she pouted. It was the most adorable thing Sam had ever seen. "The thing is, I'm sorta obligated to stay here and protect... my mom. She's all alone since my parents got divorced."

"My mom passed away when I was just a baby." Sam stared at the glass in his hands and felt his throat tighten. He never had a chance to know his mother, so it's not like he could miss her. It was the way she died that ate him up inside. "Dad travels a lot for business, so I've gone to a lot of different schools. I really want to go to college, but they want me to join in the family business. This trip is sort of a compromise for us."

He looked up at Buffy, expecting her to say "sorry" or look at him with pity, but she didn't. She reached over and squeezed his hand. Her eyes told him that she understood his predicament, making him wonder what she had fought to keep and what she had given up.

"So I heard the high school blew up," Sam said, rather bluntly. He didn't feel right trying to wheedle information out of her. But this was the only lead they'd had all night, and Dean would be pissed if he screwed it up. He flashed her a mischievous smile and asked, "That wasn't your fault, was it?"

"No," Buffy said with a laugh. But this one was different than earlier, a little forced with a nervous edge. "Some sort of gas explosion. My diploma is all charred around the edges."

He was pretty sure she was lying. She knew something more about that day, but she didn't trust him enough to tell him. He wondered if he should get her another Long Island.

"Take your money, asshole. I'm leaving."

Sam turned from Buffy to see her date throwing money onto the pool table. He shot his brother a look. Dean shrugged his shoulders and pointed to lack of a black 8-ball on the red felt tabletop. That guy was really shit at pool.

"Come on, Buffy. Let's go." Her date grabbed her arm roughly and hauled her off the stool. Sam stood up, his hands balling into tight fists. He could see Dean in the corner of his eye, coming around the pool table.

"I haven't finished my drink, Parker." Buffy yanked her arm from Parker's grasp. "And since you made me wait while you played pool, you're going to have to wait until I'm done with my drink."

"Forget it. You've got a hot ass, Buffy, but it's not worth having to put up with your shit."

_That's it_, Sam thought. _This asshole is going down_. The muscles in his arms tightened as he pulled his fist back.

And the guy flew backwards into a couple sitting at a table a few feet away. Sam looked down at his fist, still drawn and waiting to connect with the guy's jaw. He turned his head toward Dean, who looked just as confused as Sam felt.

Parker was getting his feet back under him. Sam took a few steps so that he stood in front of Buffy. He could feel his brother next to him, tense and ready to brawl. Dean said, "I don't think she's ready to leave. And I don't think she wants to leave with you."

Buffy's date stood there for a few more seconds, clutching his cheek, before making the smartest decision of the evening and turning to the exit. Sam leaned over to Dean and whispered, "Nice punch."

"I thought you did it."

They both turned to see Buffy calmly sipping down the rest of her Long Island.

* * *

_Next up _**Chapter 3: Dean** He's just trying to be nice! Why won't Buffy let him?

**A/N:** Love it? Hate it? Let me know by leaving a review!


	3. Chapter 3: Dean

**A/N:** This is my first fanfic, so I'd love it if you would leave a little feedback. Thanks to all of you who have followed and favorited. And special thanks to my beta reader, Katrina.

**Warning: **Rated T, but may go up depending on how descriptive I get down the road. For those of you who've seen the episode, you know exactly what part I'm talking about.

**Disclaimer: **Buffyverse owned by Joss Whedon. Supernatural owned by Eric Kripke.

* * *

**Chapter Three: Dean**

"Sorry about your date," Dean said. Although he really wasn't and he did his best to sound insincere.

As long as she wasn't a demon, this evening seemed to be turning out better than he expected. Dad had asked them to go to the local club to scrounge up some information about Sunnydale High from students. At first, Dean couldn't believe his father would assign them something like this. It's not like they'd never interrogated other students when they were at school. Hell, kids were often more aware and less guarded than their parents. But what Dad was proposing sounded more along the lines of fun.

Hell, Dad wanted them to go to a club and do a little recon, then Dean would happily go. He'd gone to worse places on Dad's orders and never asked questions. That was always Sammy's job. He figured he'd win a few bucks, drink a few beers, chase a little tail, and Sammy would get a chance to act his age for once. And that's what they'd been doing most of the evening.

"He wasn't my date." Her voice was small and quiet, but there were sparks in her green eyes. Not literally, though he'd have to look at some video footage to be sure. Shapeshifters were strong, able to overpower a grown man and could knock him back a few feet without blinking an eye. "We hung out last week and he offered to walk me back to my dorm. But we weren't here together."

He turned to Sammy, ready to flash him an "I think I'm gonna get laid tonight" grin, but was surprised to see the relieved expression on his little brother's face. Jeez, he'd left them alone for twenty minutes and Sammy already had a crush on her. The kid definitely needed to get his v-card punched. But before this night went any further, he had to make sure she wasn't possessed.

"_Christo_, I could use a beer," he said, watching Buffy carefully. She continued staring off in the distance as if she hadn't heard him. Satisfied that she was not possessed, he asked, "How about another Long Island?"

"Huh? Oh... no, I should actually start heading home. It's a long walk."

"Wait," said Sammy. "The guy was a total douche, but he's right. You shouldn't walk home alone this time of night. We can take you home, can't we Dean?"

Dean glanced at his watch. It was barely midnight. They still didn't have any leads on the high school. Except Buffy, who did not look like she was in the mood to answer any questions. Or have sex. If he had more time, he might have tried to win her over, but this chick had murder in her eyes and he was only too glad that those thoughts were directed at that other guy.

He turned to Sammy to explain why they had to stay here, when his little brother looked up at him with his eyes all sad and droopy –

_Damn it, no!_ He was not giving in this time. They had a couple of hours until the bar closed. There was no way they were driving this girl home, no matter how hot she was. She could take a cab home. Hell, he'd even pay for it. He opened his mouth to tell her his brilliant plan of spending Parker's money on a cab home for her, and instead said, "Sure we can take you—"

"It's okay," she said, cutting him off. She lost that far away look, her eyes focused on his and he could see why Sammy was so eager keep talking to her. There wasn't anything sweet or sad in the curve of those lips and the gleam in her eyes was... predatory. "I can make it back alright, but thanks for offering."

"My father would never forgive me if I let you walk outta here by yourself." He held up a hand when it looked like she was gonna start protesting again. "You can either walk home with some company, or you can have us following behind you. But we're not letting you go alone."

Buffy's eyes narrowed as she glared at him. He had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep his lip from curving into a smirk. She was spending the next half hour with the Winchesters whether she liked it or not. He could tell she wasn't happy with her options and was about to let him know when her eyes drifted behind him.

"Fine," she said. He'd been so sure she was about to bitch him out. He was usually so good at reading women, but Buffy kept throwing him for a loop. He didn't know what to make of her. "I need to use the ladies' room first, though, and there's usually a line. Why don't you grab that beer?"

If she wasn't going to argue, he wasn't about to start doing it either. Besides, he really could use a beer. He turned to his brother and asked, "How 'bout you, Sammy?"

"I'm good."

Dean kept an eye on Buffy while he walked to the bar. He saw her get in line behind a tall, black girl with frizzy hair. He did a quick sweep of the area, looking for anything unusual that might have drawn her attention away from him earlier, but he couldn't see anything out of the ordinary. The bartender took his order, so Dean glanced up at the mirror behind the bar to check on Sammy, who was sitting at the table like a good boy. He muttered, "Definitely gotta get that boy laid."

He picked up the bottle that the bartender placed in front of him and took a long pull from it, enjoying the cool liquid running down his throat. His eyes slid in the direction of the ladies' room. There was the tall chick with the frizz. Buffy should be behind her. There was a blond, but it wasn't Buffy. Her hair had been pulled back and coiled into a knot with the ends sticking out. And it was the color of golden wheat, not bleached until it was almost white.

_Shit. Shit. Shiiit._

He lowered the bottle and swung his head towards the main entrance. Nah, Sammy could see it from where he was sitting and would have stopped her from leaving. Kid had a major hard-on for her and it was his idea to walk her home anyways.

"Excuse me," he said to the bartender. "Do you have a back entrance?"

"Yeah, just past the bathrooms. But you have to close out your tab before you leave. Hey –"

Dean couldn't hear him because he was already halfway to the back exit.

* * *

_Next up_ **Chapter 4: Buffy** Nothing fixes a bad night like slaying a vamp!

**A/N:** Love it/Hate it? Let me know by leaving a review!


	4. Chapter 4: Buffy

**A/N:** This is my first fanfic, so I'd love it if you would leave a little feedback. Thanks to all of you who have followed and favorited. And special thanks to my beta reader, Katrina.

**Warning: **Rated T, but may go up depending on how descriptive I get down the road.

**Disclaimer: **Buffyverse owned by Joss Whedon. Supernatural owned by Eric Kripke.

* * *

**Chapter Four: Buffy**

Buffy pulled a small mirror from her purse, aiming it towards the bar until she could see Dean's reflection. He was facing her direction, but was too far away to tell if he had an intense, stalker-y focus on her or if he was doing the gentleman thing and making sure she was all right. Either way, she was stuck here. She lowered the mirror and looked to a door at the end of the hallway. The door that a vampire and his victim had just walked through.

She'd been about to tell Dean off for thinking that she needed to be protected by him or any other man when she'd gotten distracted by a couple behind him, making out at the bar. It made her more painfully aware that her plans with Parker had fallen through, and that he was the latest in a growing line of men who left Buffy. Until she realized that only the woman was reflected in the mirror above the bar.

Most vampires didn't feed in public unless they were making some big statement, so it would probably feed in the alley. Meaning it would have to take its victim through the hallway with the bathrooms. Which also happened to be across the room from the bar. And since Dean made such a fuss about following her home, she decided on a new plan that got him over there and her over here.

Killing a vamp would definitely take the edge off. More satisfying, at least, than punching Parker, even though he totally deserved it. Giles was always going on and on about the importance of tempering her strength in order to maintain her secret identity while she was more worried about guys getting all wigged out about her being stronger than them. Luckily, she hadn't hit Parker with her full strength, but still... she'd lost control and hit him harder than she'd planned. Although not as hard as he deserved.

Buffy growled in frustration. She was wasting time trying to figure out how to ditch these Winchester boys when there was a vamp who needed slaying. And a victim who needed saving, but whatever. She snuck a quick peek over her shoulder and saw Sam still sitting at the table. He was a sweet kid, and she had really liked talking with him. She even felt a little sorry that she was planning on ditching him and his stupid brother. But it looked like she wasn't the only one checking him out.

"Cute shoes," she said to the tall girl in front of her. "Hey, you went to Sunnydale, right? I saw you in one of the classes that Willow was teaching when she took over for Ms. Calendar."

"Yeah. I'm a junior over at Lawndale. Went there after Sunnydale blew up. How's Ms. Willow?"

"She's good. Listen, I'm on a date from hell." The girl shot her a sympathetic look. "Tall, brownish hair, stubbly jaw. Kinda hot, but totally sporting that grungy Seattle look with the flannel shirt. The thing is, I wanna sneak out the back door and see if my friend can pick me up. If he tries to follow, could you tell him I'm waiting for him and Sammy at the entrance?"

"Sure," said the girl. "'You're waiting for him and Sammy at the entrance.' Wait, are you on a date with two guys?"

"My date and his little brother," Buffy said with a slight shake of her head. The girl's eyes widened. "Yeah, it's been that kind of date. On the plus side, Sammy's also the cute guy you were eyeing earlier. Tall, shaggy brown hair, sitting alone by the pool table? I actually had fun talking to _him_. And he's totally available." Playing matchmaker appeased her conscience a little.

The girl flushed and nodded her head towards the door. The line for the ladies' room had grown while Buffy was plotting her escape, so she was pretty sure Dean wouldn't easily be able to spot her in the crowd. Just to be sure, she stole a glance behind her and saw him raising a beer bottle to his lips. _Perfect timing_, she thought as she spun around and quickly slipped out the door.

Depending on the size of the vampire and its victim, it can take several minutes to drain enough blood to cause serious damage. Buffy had already spent some of those getting away from Dean's watchful eyes. But the vamps around The Bronze were either dumb or lazy because they usually didn't stray too far before they started to feed. In fact, she'd only walked a few yards before she heard the girl's whimpering cries.

"I'm having a really bad night," said Buffy, spotting the vampire feeding off its victim who was pinned against a dumpster. "Know what would make it better? Kicking your ass."

The vamp lifted its head and turned around, exposing its ridged forehead to the dim alley light. Its blood-soaked lips had stretched and pulled back around a distorted mouth, making the two elongated fangs more prominent. The girl slid to the ground, and Buffy wondered if she had been too late. But as the vamp turned away from its victim, the girl started scooting back, clutching the metal dumpster for support.

"You should run," Buffy told her. Thankfully, the girl heeded her advice and ran down the alley towards the main street. "And next time you decide to make out with a random guy, check to see if he's got a pulse first."

She turned her attention back to the vamp. It was cautiously walking towards her, feinting to the left and right, testing her reflexes. But she didn't want to play cat and mouse games. She wanted to beat the snot out of it.

"Shall I tell you why this evening has sucked so far?" Her eyes narrowed as it prepared to attack her from the left. But from its stance, she knew the vamp would actually be coming from the right. She deflected the blow and dealt her own, knocking it to the ground. Before it could get up, she was on top of it, pummeling its face with her words and fists. "It's. Because. Guys. Like. You. Think. You. Can. Control. Girls. Like. Me."

Somehow it managed to get its arms between them and throw her into a pile of crates.

"That's it," she said, leaping up from the heap. She reached into her jacket and retrieved her stake, twirling it in her right hand. She and the vamp began to slowly circle each other. "I'm tired of men trying to push me around. Tired of them telling me when to stay and when to leave. This time, I get to decide. And I've decided to stand here. If you want me, you're going to have to come get me."

Buffy planted her feet firmly into the asphalt pavement of the alley, a ring of light surrounding her from a yellow bulb overhead. The vampire paced back and forth, staying in shadows, but she didn't need to see its face to know the thoughts flittering through its head. It was taller than she was, had a longer reach. It could wrap those inhuman fingers around her throat and crush her windpipe in seconds.

Her muscles tensed.

It charged towards her.

She braced herself, closing her eyes and mouth as she thrust her stake into its heart and felt it shatter.

"Ewww."

The vampire had turned to dust, coating her in a fine layer of dead demon. Flipping the stake one last time, she tucked it back into her jacket and started brushing the particles off her sleeves.

A door creaked open a couple yards ahead of her. Dean stepped out, his eyes sweeping the alley until they landed on her. "Buffy, are you okay?" He began walking towards her, his voice tinged with concern. So maybe he was being all gentleman-y. "What happened?"

She looked around, trying to imagine what he was seeing. There was the pile of broken crates. And then there was her, covered in filth, knees a little scraped up from when she'd knelt over the vamp and pounded its face. Might as well throw in the bruised knuckles as well.

As she tried to think of an excuse that would explain everything, she realized that she didn't care. There was nothing she could say that wouldn't make her look weak or incompetent, except maybe the truth. Which normal people like Parker Abrams and Dean Winchester would never believe, even if she could tell them. So she said, "Random dust storm. They happen pretty often in dark, narrow alleyways."

His eyes narrowed in suspicion. She glared at him, daring him to deny her story. She wanted him to say something, anything about how weak or fragile or delicate she was. Instead, his eyes widened in surprise, and he cried, "Son of a bitch!"

* * *

_Next up _**Chapter 5: Dean** He thought Buffy needed saving. Boy, was he wrong.

**A/N: **Love it? Hate it? Let me know by leaving a review!


	5. Chapter 5: Dean

**A/N:** This is my first fanfic, so I'd love it if you would leave a little feedback. Thanks to all of you who have followed and favorited. And special thanks to my beta reader, Katrina.

**Warning: **Rated T, but may go up depending on how descriptive I get down the road.

**Disclaimer: **Buffyverse owned by Joss Whedon. Supernatural owned by Eric Kripke.

* * *

**Chapter Five: Dean**

Dean's hand closed around the grip of the Beretta concealed at his back. He brought the weapon up, his arm steady and level. There were two guys coming up behind Buffy, and they were coming fast. _And was she really just standing there staring at him like an idiot?_

Her mouth hung open as her eyes focused on the gun in his hand. He realized that she'd probably never seen a gun in her pampered little life, much less one pointed in her direction. But he didn't have time for this, _goddamnit_. He'd already wasted a bunch on that stupid goose chase of hers, and then seeing her in the alley with her clothes disheveled... He didn't even want to think about what might have happened. The girl was a magnet for trouble.

"Buffy, get down," he yelled. That finally seemed to get through to her, because she dropped down, right as the guys stepped into the light. But Dean could see that they weren't human. They were demons. He smiled, thankful that he always remembered to use consecrated bullets.

He fired two shots, hitting each demon squarely in the chest. There was a slight fizzle as the bullets made contact, but they were otherwise unfazed and continued walking forward. Not good. _Well_, he thought, _the least I can do is give Buffy a chance to make it out of here alive._ He ran towards her, cursing her crappy decision-making skills and hoping that she wouldn't get into more trouble.

Then she performed a sweeping leg kick, dropping both demons to the ground. He slowed down, his brain needing time to comprehend what he'd seen. Jumping up and onto her feet, she turned and said, "A gun? Really?" She reached into her jacket and pulled out... a wooden stake? "What are you trying to do? Make them mad?"

The demons had also regained their footing and were preparing to attack. And she was glaring at him, shaking her head as if she couldn't believe that he didn't know wood beats bullet in the demonic version of rock-paper-scissors. One of the demons lunged at her from the left. He opened his mouth to cry out a warning when she delivered a spin kick that sent the demon flying.

_She's a hunter_, Dean thought as he tucked his gun back in his pants. She'd already spun around and started wailing on the other demon. Pretty hard, too, for a ninety pound girl. Hell, he'd gone toe-to-toe with a demon before, and she was definitely doing more damage than he'd ever done. As mind-blowing as that was, not to mention sexy as hell, he knew he had to help her out somehow. The first demon was getting up and heading towards her again. Bullets were no good. He didn't have a wooden stake. _Come on, Dean, what else beats demon?_

"Yahtzee," he said, reaching into his jacket and pulling out a small plastic bottle. He started running again, closing the distance between them. Right as he pulled up next to her, she did something to the demon and it disintegrated into a pile of ashes. She spun around quickly to face the other one, but Dean had already started squirting it with Holy Water.

The demon shrieked in pain as the liquid purity burned its skin. Buffy flicked her wrist, embedding her stake into the demon's heart. The demon turned to dust, radiating from the point of impact until the length of wood clattered to the ground. She walked over, picked it up, and tucked it back into her jacket.

Even though he'd just witnessed her take down two demons without batting an eyelash, there was something very vulnerable about the way she stood there at the edge of the light, her back towards him. He had a feeling that if he said the wrong word, made the wrong move, she'd run away into the night. And he couldn't let that happen. Deciding to keep things light, he cleared his throat and said, "Random dust storm?"

She gave a little laugh and slowly turned to face him. For a moment, he could see a trace of sadness in her smile and apprehension in her eyes. Then it was gone, hidden behind a mask of calm indifference. He knew the feeling. Ever since he'd been laughed at in school for believing in demons, things he saw and knew existed, he'd built up walls, only letting in his father, Sammy, and a handful of other hunters that had won his trust over the years.

"What was in tha—"

"So, what kind of—," he paused, realizing that she'd spoken as well. "Ladies first."

She made a face at his clichéd expression, but didn't protest. "What was in that bottle?"

"Holy Water." She raised an eyebrow. He guessed he could have said something else, but carrying around Holy Water seemed less weird than, say, a bottle of face-melting acid. "What kind of demon was that?"

"Vampire." Now it was his turn to be surprised. It must have shown on his face, though, because she asked, "You've never fought them before?"

"I thought they'd been hunted to extinction." At least, that's what his dad had told him. But the offhand way she'd said "vampire," not to mention her snort when he said "extinction," made him believe that this was far from her first time dealing with one. He wanted to know how long she'd been fighting, who had taught her, whom she trusted, but he couldn't ask that yet since she probably didn't trust him. He wouldn't if he were her. So he fell back on what had always worked on women before: humor and charm. "I guess if I was that fugly, I'd want to hide from the world, too."

He felt the tension easing a little when she responded by rolling her eyes and muttering something under her breath. He couldn't tell if it was a compliment or an insult, so he took a few steps forward, saying, "Sorry, I didn't catch that last part."

From the way she was blushing, it had to have been a compliment, so he plastered a smug grin on his face. A little laugh bubbled from her lips, and she shook her head as she crossed the pavement to stand before him. "You never stop, do you, Dean?"

He looked down into her eyes, thinking of the countless lines he'd used and the countless women he'd used them on. But this one, Buffy, deserved the truth. No, he _wanted_ to tell her the truth. And that was scary as hell. So he forced the words out of his mouth and said, "Most women _beg_ me not to stop."

She rolled her eyes again, then turned and began strolling towards the club. He knew it wasn't what she wanted to hear, wasn't what he wanted to tell her, but at least she wasn't running away from him.

"So," he said, clearing his throat as he stepped beside her, "you obviously don't need Sammy and me to escort you home." He could feel her tensing up again. "But, umm, if you don't mind the company, I'd like to walk with you."

"I don't mind," she said. He stole a glance at her. She was looking at him with a curious expression on her face. It was probably the same one she saw on his. Too bad he didn't have a damned clue what it meant.

* * *

_Next up _**Chapter 6: Sam** When Dean and Buffy get back, he assumes the worst. And it has nothing to do with demons.

**A/N: **Love it? Hate it? Let me know by leaving a review!


	6. Chapter 6: Sam

**A/N:** This is my first fanfic, so I'd love it if you would leave a little feedback. Thanks to all of you who have followed and favorited. And special thanks to my beta reader, Katrina.

**Warning: **Rated T, but may go up depending on how descriptive I get down the road.

**Disclaimer: **Buffyverse owned by Joss Whedon. Supernatural owned by Eric Kripke.

* * *

**Chapter Six: Sam**

"—and the principal started calling everyone a 'spaz'." Sam looked at the girl chattering across from him, wondering how Dean did it. Carmen, if he'd heard right, was regaling him with a tale of weirdness at Sunnydale High, and all he could do was smile and nod and think of nothing witty to say. "But then I got home. That's when it got really weird. My parents were blasting The Bee Gees. The Bee Gees! And then I caught them making out on the couch. That's where I, like, watch TV and bring friends over and... ugh. I went to my room and shut the door. Refused to come out until the world came to its senses."

"I'm guessing sanity returned," he said. That sounded cleverer in his head. However, she nodded, curls bouncing wildly around her face. "Did they ever find out what caused it?"

"They said a guy at the factory laced a batch of chocolate bars with LSD." She leaned closer, grazing his hand with her fingers. "But my dad's a chemist and said he couldn't find anything in them."

"Maybe it wasn't the chocolate?" He felt himself stiffen and withdraw, his usual reaction to a stranger's touch. The disappointment in her eyes was clear. Cursing himself again for not being more like his brother, Sam suddenly wondered why he hadn't reacted when Buffy squeezed his hand earlier.

"Had to be. Eva's mom's allergic to chocolate and didn't act like everyone else in town," said Carmen.

"Hmmm..." Even though Sam had seen things that most people wouldn't believe, he couldn't help feeling that there had to be a logical explanation for this. It just didn't fit right with what he knew about demons. Most of the things his family hunted were of the "kill all humans" variety, not the wacky "adults tripping out" kind. Seemed like another dead end for him and Dean.

Who seemed to have been gone for a while. Sam frowned, glancing down at his watch. He tried to remember what the time had been when Dean asked if he'd seen Buffy near the entrance. Carmen had introduced herself right after that, and—

"So, I think my friend's waving me over."

"No, Carmen, wait," he said. "I was just worried about my brother—"

"You're in luck. He's right behind you." With a toss of her head, she got up and left.

"Woah, Sammy," said Dean. "Haven't I taught you anything?"

Anger and resentment welled up inside him, and Sam turned, more than happy to unleash it on his older brother. But the words died before they could reach his throat. Buffy had smudges of dirt on her face, and more dirt on her clothes. And Dean... Sam had never seen his brother like this before. It was a weird combination of tense and relaxed at the same time. If it hadn't been for that tenseness, it almost seemed like they'd just — No! They wouldn't. There had to be another explanation. He sputtered, "What happened?"

"Random dust storm," Dean said. The seriousness of his expression disintegrated when Buffy let out an unmistakable snort.

"Great," said Sam. "Well, while you were... off chasing Buffy, Carmen was telling me a funny story about Sunnydale High. Where she went last year. Before it blew up." Subtlety wasn't his strong point today.

"_That's_ her name," Buffy exclaimed. "So, did she come say 'hi'? She was totally checking you out earlier."

Buffy had sent Carmen over? Was it all an elaborate plot to get some alone time with Dean? Sam felt something gnaw at the insides of his stomach.

"You alright, Sammy?" Dean's look of concern made Sam want to laugh. Or vomit. He wasn't sure. "We were gonna walk Buffy back to her dorm, but if you're not feeling well, I..."

"So, what, you're just gonna let her go alone?" He could tell by Dean's face that he was planning to. Of course. He hated sticking around after he'd gotten what he'd wanted. "I'm fine. Stop with the bitch-face already." In a gentler tone, he turned to Buffy, "I mean... that is... If you still want us around, I'd be glad to walk home with you."

"When you ask me like that, how could I possibly say no?" Sam heard his brother mutter something about puppy dogs, but he didn't care because Buffy had linked her arm through his and Dean was left trailing behind them. Just like before, he didn't pull away from her like he would with almost anyone else.

* * *

"So, Sam," Buffy said after they'd walked a few blocks, "is 'hunting' the family business you were talking about earlier?"

"Ummm..." Sam shot Dean an accusing look over Buffy's head. And got one back. Maybe Sam had said they had a family business, but he didn't say they were demon hunters. But Dean wouldn't do that either. She must mean that other type of hunting. Sam racked his brain, recalling everything he knew about "normal" hunting. "Yeah, we do a lot of big game hunts and, um, other hunters pay fees... that we collect." There was a strangled sound from Dean, like he was choking back a laugh. Sam decided to give him something to really choke on. "But I just do the research. Dean's way more involved. He can tell you everything you need to know about hunting."

"Well, for starters," said his brother, "the pay is _shit_, the hours _suck_, and demon blood stains are a _bitch_ to get out."

"Ugh," Buffy replied, "tell me about it. I had to throw away my favorite shirt when some demon barfed green slime all over it."

Sam stopped. This was not the conversation he'd been expecting. Buffy and Dean walked a few paces before they realized he wasn't beside them. "You're a..."

"Dude, she's a hunter." Sam could barely remember seeing Dean smile like this before. Well, maybe that one time in St. Louis when Dad took them to Conner's Diner.

"Slayer, actually," Buffy said. "I guess _the_ Slayer, if you want to—"

"What's a slayer?"

"One girl in all the world," said Sam. "She alone will wield the strength and skill to stand against the vampires, the demons, and the forces of darkness; To stop the spread of their evil and the swell of their numbers."

"What he said."

"Geek."

Sam shrugged off Dean's insult. He couldn't help it if Dean spent his time at Uncle Bobby's shooting things rather than poking through books. Books like the hunter's diary, which included some descriptions about his Slayer girlfriend. With very vivid details. But the hunter had also said that the Slayer's identity was a secret and never wrote down her name or any identifying features. The ones that couldn't be hidden by clothes, anyways. "So, how did you know she's a hunt – Slayer, I mean?"

"He threw Holy Water on a vamp I was gonna dust."

"I was helping."

"After royally pissing them off by shooting them."

Buffy and Dean continued exchanging insults, but all Sam knew was that he'd been wrong about what happened in the alley. They'd been fighting a vampire!

"What did you think we were—" Buffy said. Sam didn't realize he's spoken aloud. She searched his face for the answer to her unfinished question, so he averted his eyes, not wanting her to see his guilty thoughts. But she quickly figured it out. "You thought that we were—? That _I_ would—? With _Dean_?"

"Hey!"

Ignoring his brother's protest, Sam raised his shoulders in an apologetic shrug. "He's got a way with women."

"Not helping, Sammy."

"I'm sorry, okay?" Her glare was full of hurt indignation. Sam couldn't think of anything to say that would make this better, so he decided on the truth. "I got mad that you two seemed to be getting along and jumped to the wrong conclusions."

He looked at her with an earnest expression, the same one he gave to teachers asking why he'd fallen asleep in class after a long night of patching up his brother and dad when they came back from a hunt. Hell, it was the same one he gave Dean earlier that night. Because it always worked. Except against Dad. And, apparently, Buffy.

"Buffy..."

"Not now, Dean."

"Sammy," Dean said in his authoritative tone. Sam bit back his desire to echo Buffy's retort because his older brother had moved on from spanking his ass to kicking it when he felt Sam deserved it. Talking back to Dean or Dad usually merited a painful whooping. "Go sit your ass over there. You're only making it worse."

Sam let out a frustrated puff of air as he dutifully sat down on the bench Dean had pointed out. It was far enough away that he could only hear snippets of the conversation, mostly from Buffy's end. Something about a "skeezy biker chick" named Faith who "hands it out like candy on Halloween."

_Damn_, Sam thought, _sounds like Faith would be right up Dean's alley_. And he didn't think Buffy was like that at all. He didn't think she was the kind of girl who would fall for Dean's lines, either, and he'd been so disappointed when he thought she was susceptible after all. That she'd want a guy with charm and self-confidence instead of someone like him.

"Sammy," Dean yelled. Buffy was smiling again, which meant that he'd cleaned up another one of his little brother's messes. "Let's go."

* * *

_Next up _**Chapter 7: Buffy** Time for a trip down ex-lovers' lane.

**A/N: **Love it? Hate it? Let me know by leaving a review!


	7. Chapter 7: Buffy

**A/N:** Thanks to all of you who have followed and favorited. Cookies to those who left a review; you fill my heart with warm fuzzies. And extra special thanks to my beta readers, Katrina and isugirl.

**Warning: **Rated T for language.

**Disclaimer: **Buffyverse owned by Joss Whedon. Supernatural owned by Eric Kripke.

* * *

**Chapter Seven: Buffy**

Buffy decided not to consider the irony of having her non-date with Parker end in a starlit walk between two Winchesters. But she couldn't overlook the fact that her brief forays into dating "normal" guys had often ended disastrously.

First had been Pike. Rude, obnoxious, drunken Pike who'd kept her sane when she discovered she was the Slayer. He'd been by her side in the gym, holding off Lothos' minions while she dealt with the vampire "king" herself. She had wanted nothing more than to go with him to Vegas, to hop on the back of his motorcycle and never look back. Screw destiny, she would have a normal life. But he wouldn't let her. He dropped her off at her house, reminded her that other people were depending on her to do what was right, and gave her a big damn kiss goodbye.

After him, she'd had a crush on sweet, sensitive Owen who'd been knocked unconscious trying to help her fight off a vampire. That brush with death had turned him into an adrenaline junkie, and he'd wanted to go hunting again. But he didn't actually know what they'd been up against, didn't know the truth about vampires or demons. Or about her. He'd been a liability that night, and she'd felt guilty for putting him in danger.

Next was Ford, who turned out to be a vampire-worshipping nutcase. But it had felt so nice, not having to hide who she truly was. And it still hurt. The way he'd screwed with her mind, the way she'd trusted him, the way he'd looked when she'd staked him.

Then came Scott. She'd done her best to protect him from her Slayer life and ended up alienating him. They'd rarely seen each other outside of school, and she was constantly lying to him. By the time he'd broken up with her, she could hardly remember why she'd gone out with him in the first place. Didn't mean she enjoyed getting dumped, but looking back, she could see that the relationship should have ended long before that.

"Ummm, Buffy," Sam said, interrupting her trip down ex-lovers' lane, "how much further?"

"We're about halfway there," said Buffy after a quick glance at her surroundings. Having walked nearly every inch of this town in the last three years, she always knew where she was in relation to home, school, and Giles' apartment.

"So, it takes an hour to walk to your dorm?"

"Is little Sammy getting tired?" Dean reached over and mussed up his brother's hair. "I'd give you a piggy back, bro, but you're gettin' a little too big for that."

"That mean you're gonna stop calling me 'Sammy'?"

"Fine. I'll just call you 'Samantha'."

Buffy chuckled and shook her head as the Winchesters started wrestling. She wasn't sure if she could classify them in the "normal" dating pool. They knew what was out there and could probably hold their own against a demon. Despite her teasing, Dean had handled the vamps pretty well, and she felt that she could trust him at her back. Sam was probably just as well trained and just as deadly.

But they were very much human. She'd felt the warmth radiating from Sam when she'd slipped her arm through his. _Which_, she thought, _probably encouraged this crush Dean's talking about_. According to him, his little brother thought the worst had happened because he'd been jealous and didn't "have his head straight". She was still a little irritated that Sam would assume she was capable of doing something like that, but she also knew what it was like to be sixteen.

As for his brother... well, Dean radiated a different type of heat. But beneath all that charm, he was guarded and kept his cards close. She'd tried to see what was behind that wall after they'd dusted the vamps. Raw from Parker's rejection, she couldn't face the horror and confusion she knew she'd see in Dean's eyes. Not of the demons, but of her, what she'd done and what she was. But he'd surprised her.

And he continued to surprise her. Like asking if they could keep her company on her walk, respecting her ability to take care of herself without sounding like she'd injured his manly pride. Or the way he'd diffused the tension, again, but chose to defend his little brother by being honest instead of charming. He'd pretty much confessed to being a womanizer and that he'd "usually be pulling out all the stops" by now, so Sam thought she was just another—

_Wait_, she thought, _why isn't he 'pulling out all the stops'?_ Not that she wanted to do what Sam thought she'd done, but she couldn't lie and say she wasn't attracted to Dean. It wasn't just the fact that he oozed sex. Or that he was too pretty to be ruggedly handsome. Or too ruggedly handsome to be pretty, she couldn't decide. It was in those unguarded moments that she felt her heart quiver.

"I'm so glad I'm an only child," she'd told Dean after he navigated her through Sam's insane troll logic to a reason that put the blame on himself rather than Buffy or even his little brother.

"I'm glad I'm not." There was so much gravity in his voice at that moment, such naked emotion. It almost scared her to think about the depths he kept hidden.

She decided not to contemplate why Dean wasn't hitting on her. Whatever his reasons, she was thankful because she wasn't sure she could trust herself with him. And something told her that falling for Dean Winchester would be a very bad thing.

* * *

_Next up _**Chapter 8: Dean** How could he forget his baby at the club? Oh, that's right, because of Buffy.

**A/N: **Love it? Hate it? Let me know by leaving a review!


	8. Chapter 8: Dean

**A/N:** Thanks to all of you who have followed and favorited. Cookies to those who left a review; you fill my heart with warm fuzzies. And extra special thanks to my beta readers, Katrina and isugirl.

**Warning: **Rated T for language.

**Disclaimer: **Buffyverse owned by Joss Whedon. Supernatural owned by Eric Kripke.

* * *

**Chapter Eight: Dean**

"Not letting you go until you say it." Dean wrapped his arm tighter around his brother's neck. He was proud that it was getting harder to maneuver Sammy into a headlock. Kid was getting bigger, but he was also getting smarter.

"Fine," Sam said through gritted teeth. "Dean is the best brother ever."

"And?"

"And I l-lo — I'm lucky to have him."

"Close enough," Dean said, releasing his hold. He knew that it didn't really count, but it felt good to hear Sammy admit that he loved his older brother. Or as close to it as he could. If he'd actually said it, Dean probably would have called him out on a chick flick moment.

"I was going to say," said Sammy, like a teenage girl who got her feelings hurt, "that if it takes an hour to get to the dorms and an hour to get back, wouldn't it have been a lot faster if we just drove her home?"

"Shit! I left my baby at the club." Dean calculated how long it would take to retrace their steps. "We gotta go back."

"You left your baby at a club?"

"His car," said Sammy, lips curved into a smirk. "If it cooked, she would be Dean's perfect woman."

_Until Buffy came along. _Nope. That thought did not just cross his mind. He knew Sammy was crushing on her. Wasn't even sure he could call it a crush anymore, the kid had her so high up on a pedestal. Her being a hunter, or Slayer, or whatever, made it that much worse.

But Dean hadn't had a crush on anyone since second grade when Suzie McElroy bopped him over the head with a plastic shovel. They never stayed anywhere long enough for him to feel anything deeper than "she's pretty." Besides, he always had to look after Sammy. So getting involved with a woman at anything more than a superficial level wasn't for him.

"We gotta go back and get her," Dean said, refusing to think about why he'd forgotten about her for this long.

"I'm not walking all the way back to The Bronze for a car."

"A car? The Impala is _not_ just a car!" Maybe she wasn't so perfect after all.

"What if it gets towed?" said Sammy. The horror of his words filled Dean's head. "I'll go. I can come pick you guys up."

"No," said Dean and Buffy in unison. He knew his reasons for not wanting Sammy to go alone, much less drive, but he sent Buffy a questioning look.

"Big, bitey vampires."

"I can handle 'em." Sammy drew himself up to his full height and puffed out his chest a little. Dean smacked him on the back of the head.

"Not gonna happen," Dean said. He was torn. His baby might need protection from a tow truck, and Buffy definitely did not need protecting. But he didn't want to leave her. He was afraid that if he left, he wouldn't find her again. She'd be some other girl that looked the same, but she wouldn't be _his_ Buffy.

What the hell was he thinking? He needed to get as far away from her as possible, before he started acting like di Caprio drowning for Winslet. Not that he ever saw the movie.

"If it really means that much to you," said Buffy, "we can—"

"Nah, it's fine." He knew he should leave and not look back. But he couldn't stop himself. "Sammy, why don't you stay with Buffy. I'll come pick you up at her dorm."

"Really?"

"Dean," she said. He thought he saw disappointment in her eyes. Maybe she didn't want him to go either. Or maybe she didn't want to be left alone with his annoying little brother. But the moment passed and she flashed him a half-smile. "Stevenson Hall. It's on the south side. Room 214."

"I'll find it." She was so close, he could lean down and kiss her. But he pulled his head up, catching a glance of Sammy glaring at him. "Sammy has his pager, and I've got my cell phone."

"Dean, wait." She placed her hand on his shoulder, stopping him mid-turn. His skin burned where she'd touched him, and he felt hope rising up as he spun round to face her. She pulled the stake from her jacket and offered it to him. "Take Mr. Pointy with you. Just in case."

"What about you?"

"Got a knife, Sam?" asked Buffy. His little brother pulled out a pocketknife and, knowing how Dad had trained them, probably had another one sheathed at his ankle.

"But that's not going to do shit against a vampire."

She rolled her eyes and walked to a nearby tree, breaking off a thick branch with her bare hands. After she tore off the twigs and excess length, she tossed it to Sammy. "Whittle that into Pointy, Jr. for me. We'll see you in a few, Dean."

He frowned as he watched her and Sammy walk away. Trust was a very rare thing in Dean's world, and he could count, on one hand, the people that he'd trust to take care of his little brother without constantly worrying about it. And now he'd told Sammy to go with a girl they'd just met so that he had an excuse to see her again tonight. And he wasn't actually worried about Sammy's safety.

Realizing that this line of thinking would only lead to a headache, Dean turned and headed back to his baby.

* * *

He took it all back. This evening sucked.

The walk back to the car was long and boring. And he kept wondering what his brother was saying about him to Buffy. It was one thing to admit to having a "reputation" with women. It was another to have it described in detail.

He kept telling himself that it didn't matter what she thought of him. He'd stopped chasing girls who thought they were too good for him. Course, those girls usually ended up chasing him, but he was pretty sure Buffy wasn't gonna do that. Especially if Sammy was doing his best to derail Dean's chances. Which he probably was.

"Who am I kidding?" Dean asked his reflection in the rearview mirror. Buffy didn't have to think she better than him. She _was_ better than him. She'd taken down two vampires with efficiency and ease. And she'd probably dusted another just before he got there, which would explain why her clothes had been messed up and dirty.

Plus, she was a college girl who obviously hadn't let demon hunting get in the way of her life. She'd want someone who could hold his own in an intellectual conversation, not a high school dropout with a GED. And she deserved a real relationship, not a fling with some guy who'd be chasing a demon halfway across the country next week.

"She'd want a guy who can figure out how to get to her dorm room," Dean muttered as he pulled into a spot. He'd found the campus easily, but had spent the last half-hour looking for Buffy's dorm. The signs for Stevenson all seemed to point in different directions. He was hoping, from the number of cars in the parking lot and the basketball courts nearby, that he was in the right place.

The doors were locked. Of course. He could pick them, but Buffy would ask how he got in which might lead to a discussion of his other questionable skills and criminal abilities. Taking out his phone, he dialed Sammy's pager and punched in the three-digit code that meant "Call Dean."

"What took you so long?" his brother asked.

"I'm here now." He wasn't going to admit that he'd gotten lost. "But the door's locked."

"Hang on." Dean could hear giggling in the background and realized that Buffy had a roommate. His first thought was to wonder if she was hot, his second was if she knew about Buffy's secret life. "Buffy's coming down to get you."

He hung up. A few minutes later, he saw Buffy's bare feet on the stairs, followed by the rest of her. She smiled at him through the glass doors, then put her finger to her lips, telling him to keep quiet. There was probably some dorm rule about letting in strangers after two a.m., but the halls were deserted when she opened the door and led him to the stairs.

Dean took back his earlier assessment. From where he was standing, behind and below Buffy, this was definitely a good evening. He was just sad that she only lived on the second floor and not the fourteenth.

"Dean," said Buffy as he entered her room. She nodded her head to a redheaded girl sitting cross-legged on one of the beds. "That's my best friend Willow. Don't even try hitting on her because her boyfriend will tear your throat out."

He glared at his brother, who had obviously told a few stories on the way here, but Sammy was sitting on the other bed – Buffy's bed – chatting with Willow. She was cute in a librarian sort of way, and must have one of those big, beefy linebacker boyfriends. But she couldn't hold a candle to Buffy, who was now sitting beside her.

"— mostly theoretical, but the main library has a huge wing dedicated to it," said Willow. Dean noticed a bright green bandage on her neck and wondered if she was covering up evidence of her throat-tearing boyfriend. "There's some practical stuff if you know what to look for."

Trust his geeky brother to talk about libraries when there were two pretty girls in the room. Dean grabbed a chair from one of the desks, swung it around, and sat down so that his chest was against the chair's back.

"That's my Will. There's not a website she can't hack or a book she won't crack to fight the bad."

"Yup. Just call me Miss Information." Willow's eyes widened. "Or, you know, something else that's research-y and not misleading."

Dean had to admit that there was something very sweet and endearing about her. He was willing to bet that she could give Sammy a run for his money in the sad, puppy face category.

"Can we see it tomorrow?" Sammy was nearly jumping off the bed in excitement.

"Tomorrow?" Dean asked. He'd finally found the place and now he was feeling lost again. He had to get out of this college and back in the real world.

"Will and I offered to take Sam on a campus tour tomorrow."

"I dunno, Sammy. I think Dad probably has plans for us." Dean's response brought on another bitchface from Sammy. But Dad probably did have something else planned. And as much as Dean wanted to see Buffy again, he knew it was a bad idea. It'd be better for both of them if he just disappeared after tonight.

"Oh, I know!" Buffy jumped up and ran to a desk, scribbled something on a piece of paper, and handed it to Sammy. "Ask your Dad. If he says 'yes', you can call us and let us know. If not, maybe we can meet up later instead."

Dean had to remind himself not to be jealous as he watched his brother tuck the slip of paper into his wallet. But his voice was a little gruff when he said, "We should get going."

Sammy looked like he was going to protest, so Dean stood up and returned the chair to its spot in the same move. After a moment, Sammy sighed and got up from the bed.

"Thanks for everything, Buffy. I'm sure we can convince Dad to let me come tomorrow." Sammy must be more tired than he seemed because Dean thought his little brother had included him in the plot to convince Dad. If Dad didn't want them to go, they weren't going. Period.

"Wait," Buffy said as Dean started to usher Sammy out the door. "Thank you guys, too. Tonight's been... interesting." She hesitated, her voice was small and worried. "My identity. As a Slayer. It's kind of a secret, so... please don't tell anyone. Not even your father."

Dean wasn't surprised when Sammy agreed almost immediately. He _was_ surprised when he looked straight into her eyes and gave a quick nod despite the horrible twisting feeling in his stomach.

* * *

_Next up _**Chapter 9: John** Is it too late to try to be a father to his sons instead of a drill sergeant?

**A/N: **Love it? Hate it? Let me know by leaving a review!


	9. Chapter 9: John

**A/N:** Thanks to all of you who have followed and favorited. Cookies to those who left a review; you fill my heart with warm fuzzies. And extra special thanks to my beta readers, Katrina and isugirl.

**Warning: **Rated T for language.

**Disclaimer: **Buffyverse owned by Joss Whedon. Supernatural owned by Eric Kripke.

* * *

**Chapter Nine: John**

John Winchester sat at a small round table, sipping coffee from a paper cup. As a connoisseur of bad coffee, he had to admit that this was actually pretty decent. It probably had something to do with the staff making a fresh pot every hour. One of the perks of being in a hotel that served continental breakfast, he guessed. But what they'd spent in fresh coffee, they'd skimped on more perishable items. Coming in at the tail end of service, when the small dining area off the hotel lobby was full to the brim, he'd only managed to snag a bagel and a cup of coffee.

One of the articles caught his eye as he read the local newspaper. There was an expose into a string of disappearances at the college, assumed to be first year dropouts until a local kid's parents filed a missing persons report. A police investigation turned up several others who had simply vanished from their lives, no even contacting friends or relatives.

It was worth looking into, but what he really needed was more information about the high school. Most government offices would be closed today, a Saturday, but libraries often held weekend hours. He'd often dropped his kids there to spend the day until Dean had discovered art books, specifically the naked Renaissance figures. When he picked them up a few minutes before closing, he'd gotten an earful from the frumpy library matron. After the fifth time, John stopped bringing them to the library. Dean had been disappointed, though he quickly found other sources, but Sammy had been heartbroken.

_Maybe the boys had more luck._ He pulled a few pages from the newspaper, folded them up, and filled his cup from the dispenser. Then he walked out the door and climbed into his truck, whistling a tune as he drove to his motel room in the seedier part of downtown.

Dean and Sammy were still asleep when he got in, but he didn't bother trying to keep quiet. He looked to the bed where Dean lay under the covers. His son gazed at him, bleary-eyed, with his favorite gun pointed at John's head. Realizing who it was, he fell back to sleep, tucking his gun under the pillow.

_Maybe Bobby was right_, he thought. _Maybe I've trained them too hard and too much._ But he was still proud that his son's honed instincts had brought the gun up, and even prouder that those same instincts had lowered the gun down.

From his cot in the corner of the room, Sammy stirred. Another nightmare. John looked down at his youngest son, whose arms and legs dangled off the small frame of the rollaway bed. He reached down to stroke a wayward lock from Sammy's face when his son's expression changed. _He's still your son_, John thought, fighting the urge to draw his hand back. Steeling himself with a deep breath, he gently laid his fingers on his son's face, tucking a bit of hair behind his ear.

"Morning, sir."

"Morning, Dean."

"Sammy was having another nightmare."

John nodded, even though it wasn't a question. Dean always knew when his little brother had a nightmare. Maybe it came from sleeping in the same bed for as long as they could stand sharing it. Or maybe it's because they only had each other for most of their lives. The older they got, the longer he left them alone. Biting back his regrets, he leaned against the wall near Sammy's head and faced his eldest. "What did you find out last night?

"Met a girl last night that was there." Although Dean was still blinking the sleep from his eyes, he'd swung his legs so he could sit upright when addressing his father. "But we didn't get a chance to talk about it too much."

"Would it look suspicious if you went there again tonight?" John was well aware of his son's indiscretions. Hell, he'd had his share when he came back from Vietnam. But Dean ran through women like water through a sieve.

"Actually, she invited Sammy to tour the college with her and her friend. He told her he was visiting the campus as a prospective student."

"Smart thinking." He was surprised that Dean hadn't included himself in the invitation. Either he hadn't been invited, or he didn't want to see the girl again. "Do you think it's a good lead?"

"I do, sir."

John waited, but Dean didn't seem to be forthcoming with any further information. "If Sammy goes, you go."

"He'll go." There was a hint of something in his voice, but John couldn't figure out what. He'd never heard Dean use that tone in regards to his brother.

"Do you _want_ to go?"

"If you don't need me, sir," Dean said, hesitantly, "I'll go. To keep an eye on Sammy."

So he wanted to go, but didn't want to seem eager. John didn't know if his son was trying to hide something from himself or his father. _Did it have something to do with this girl they met last night?_

Sammy let out a wide yawn before opening his eyes. "Morning, Dad."

"Sammy." John's watched as his son scrunched his face and stretched, the way he used to when he woke up in the back seat of the Impala. But his sons were all grown up now, and when little Sammy stood up, he was almost as tall as his father.

"Hey, Dad," said Sammy, grabbing a package of store-bought donuts from a plastic bag on the table. "I got a lead on someone who went to Sunnydale. Graduated last year and was there when the high school blew up. But we, um, didn't get a chance to interrogate the... lead before the club closed. I've got a phone number, and we talked about meeting today. So, can I give h– the lead a call and say that I can go?"

His son had spoken so quickly, John had only caught half of what he'd said. Considering his other son had his face buried in a pillow in an attempt to muffle his laughter, he had a good idea what it was about. "Your brother told me about the girl you met last night."

"Oh." Sammy hurled a pack of donuts at Dean, whose face was still planted in the pillow. When Dean looked up to protest, John watched them hold a wordless conversation with a lot of glaring and eyebrow raising. When Dean shook his head, Sammy turned away in relief.

John had an uneasy feeling about this girl. Both his boys were acting strangely. Dean was trying not to show how excited he was to see her, and Sammy was overly excited. Maybe they were under the influence of a spell. _Or maybe they're jus' actin' like teenage boys_, said a little voice inside him that sounded a lot like Bobby. Of course, he'd have included that teenage boys were all "_idjits_". He was probably right.

"I expect a detailed report when you come back." John looked at Sammy, then at Dean. "From both of you."

"Yes, sir," they said in unison. John spared a quick glance at his youngest. Only a few years ago, Sammy had started openly rebelling against the strict military discipline John used to raise them. Every "sir" since then had been forced with bitterness on both sides. But not this time.

"Great," Sam said, grabbing his phone and heading to the bathroom. "I'll call Buffy and ask what time we should come over."

"Buffy?" John mouthed.

Dean shrugged, then smirked and made a jerking motion with his hand. John shook his head at the obscene gesture. His son responded by ducking his head and becoming entirely too preoccupied with the package of donuts he'd been pelted with earlier.

John crossed to the table and laid out the papers he'd collected. Using a pocketknife, he cut out the section and found a few more. Dean picked up the sections and taped them to the mirror they'd been using as a board. John came up behind his son and examined the articles, looking for a pattern.

"I told her we'd meet her at her dorm in an hour or so," Sam said, coming out of the bathroom. He drew up beside his brother. After a few moments, he pointed, saying, "This one says the majority of the damage seems to be in the library, although most of the deaths occurred in the courtyard. And it makes mention of an earlier incident where there was an earthquake, but floor and ceiling sustained damage in the library that's strangely inconsistent with a typical earthquake."

"Buffy's friend Willow seems the bookish type," said Dean. "Maybe she can help."

John's eyes drifted from the board to his sons, pride filling the empty places in his heart. No, he hadn't raised them to be typical teenage boys. But he'd trained them to be excellent hunters.

* * *

_Next up _**Chapter 10: Dean** Someone is crushing on Dean, and it's not Buffy.

**A/N: **Love it? Hate it? Let me know by leaving a review!


	10. Chapter 10: Dean

**A/N:** Thanks to all of you who have followed and favorited. Cookies to those who left a review; you fill my heart with warm fuzzies. And extra special thanks to my beta readers, Katrina and isugirl.

**Warning: **Rated T for language.

**Disclaimer: **Buffyverse owned by Joss Whedon. Supernatural owned by Eric Kripke.

* * *

**Chapter Ten: Dean**

If it hadn't been for the seatbelt strapped across his chest, Sammy might have bounced out the window. Dean considered driving past the college just to see what he would do, but the thought of seeing Buffy again set him back on course, even though he knew he should be flooring it in the other direction.

"Sammy," said Dean. When he didn't get a response, he punched his brother in the arm. "Sammy."

"What?"

"Remember, we gotta get information for Dad." He held up his hand when Sammy started to protest. "I know, she's the Slayer and has the demon thing covered. But, since we can't tell Dad that, we gotta give him something."

Sammy murmured something that sounded like agreement.

Buffy sat with Willow and a couple of guys on the lawn in front of the dorms when Dean pulled into a spot near them. There was a pale redhead that was obviously Willow's boyfriend from the way their hands were linked. It was the dark-haired dude that worried him. Especially seeing the way he made her laugh, with her head tossed back and her mouth wide open, forgetting that there was evil in the world. And then he remembered that he didn't care who Buffy dated.

"Sam. Dean," Buffy said, standing up to greet them. "You remember Willow. This is her boyfriend Oz. And this is Xander."

Dean was surprised at how short and wiry Oz was, especially the way Buffy talked him up last night. But the kid had a firm grip when Dean shook it, and he could see a wildness in Oz's eyes that seemed to go against his cool demeanor. And maybe a little... fear?

"That's a '67 Chevy Impala with Coke bottle styling." The dark-haired dude – Xander – was eyeing his baby. And giving her the proper respect she deserved. Maybe the guy wasn't so bad. "Eight cylinders, 385 horsepower. Man, I have got to stop hanging around you girls and get me some guy friends with cars like this."

"With your luck, they'd either be zombies or demons," said Buffy.

"Xander Harris," he said, sticking out his hand. Dean shook it, figuring whatever was between him and Buffy, it didn't seem to be romantic. "Glad to meet you."

"Sorry to take off so soon," Oz said as he shook Sammy's hand. "Gotta practice with the band, 'cause, you know, it makes us suck less than we already do."

Sammy smirked, and Dean remembered seeing Oz on stage when they got to the club. He'd thought the band sucked, but his taste in music didn't always mesh with Sammy's. Except in this case.

"_That's_ the dude that would rip my throat out?" he asked Buffy when Oz was out of earshot. Surprisingly, Oz raised his hand and flipped Dean off. "He got bat ears or something?"

Buffy and Willow giggled, and Xander pat his back, saying, "Man, you don't wanna know."

"So," said Sammy, visibly vibrating with enthusiasm, "where to first?"

"I was thinking we'd swing by the library," Buffy said. "Then we can hit the Activities center, and figure out the rest over lunch in the quad."

Dean couldn't wait to get to the eating portion of the day. But he had to admit that Sammy looked happy, and not all of it was because of Buffy. She and Willow seemed to be joined at the hip, chattering about professors and classes and books in a way that made Dean's head spin. But Sammy was eating it up and asking questions.

"So," Dean said to Xander, "are you going to point out the buildings you've got classes in and which teacher is screwing his TA?"

"College? Who needs it? I'm a working man." Xander didn't strike Dean as a blue-collar kinda guy. "Plus they, uh, wouldn't let me in."

"Hey, being a hunter doesn't require a college degree. Hell, I never even graduated from high school."

"Excellent. You guys got room for one more?" Dean gave a half-hearted shrug, hoping that Xander was joking. It didn't make him feel any better when the guy yelled, "Hey Buff, I'm gonna go be a demon hunter with these guys. Might be safer than staying here."

"If you break down in Oxnard again, we want to see the show," came the reply.

"Oxnard?"

"You don't want to hear my male stripper story."

"No, I really don't." Dean looked at the group ahead of him, watching the sunlight play on Buffy's hair as they crossed beneath a big oak tree. He bit the inside of his cheek, trying to keep the words from coming out of his mouth. "So, you and Buffy... have you ever?"

"You've been hit by the Buff-bug, too." Xander flashed him a sad smile. "Suffice it to say, I'm the Ducky to her Molly Ringwald. But at least I got to play Prince Charming once."

"What happened?"

"Big uber-vamp called 'The Master'." His voice grew cold as the memories poured out. "He, uh, used Buffy's Slayer blood to break through the mystical portal keeping him below ground and then left her to drown in a pool of cave water. That's where Angel and I found her. I gave her CPR and my lips have never been the same since."

Dean's fists instinctively curled at the thought of this guy's lips on Buffy's, even if it had been to save her. _What the hell, Dean? _He didn't even know she existed until last night. Pushing thoughts of Buffy from his head, he focused on the rest of Xander's story. "Who's Angel? Sounds like a hot chick."

"Actually," he said through tear-inducing laughter, "he's Buffy's ex." He took a few moments to collect himself before continuing. "Took off after graduation. Can't say I'm sorry to see him go."

"Guy was bad news, huh?" Figures Buffy would date a douchebag. Probably another chauvinist ass like Parker who didn't know how to handle a real woman like her.

"Liked playing mind games. Did stuff just to screw with our heads."

"Was he there when the high school blew up?"

"Yeah, but he was back to being one of the good guys again. Helped us fight off the mayor who sold his soul to become a demon. Not one of those half-breed demons we usually fight, but a big snake demon. I mean, like, giant."

Half-breed demons. Snake demons. Dean had never hunted any creature like the ones Xander was describing. Hell, he'd never heard anything like it from the hunters he'd met. But from the way Buffy and her friends talked, it was like they fought things like this on a weekly, if not daily, basis. And it sounded exciting.

"How'd you kill it?"

"We blew up the school."

"Just like that, huh?"

"Just like that." Xander pulled himself up, tall with pride, but still a few inches shorter than Dean. Then his shoulder fell, his pride deflated. "I mean, yeah, okay, the plan included arming the entire graduating class, Buffy racing through the hallways followed by a very angry demon, and a library full of explosives. That I set up, if I might add."

"Sounds like my kinda party."

"Man, remind me not to RSVP the next time you send an invite." Xander shook his head, but he was smiling as if imagining the crazy shit that would go down at a Winchester party. Not that Dean would ever throw a party. He preferred crowds in places where he didn't have to do the cleaning up. But he might be okay with inviting Xander along. Dude was starting to grow on him.

* * *

_Next up _**Chapter 11: Sam** He realizes that there's a way to _share_ fries and a _way_ to share fries. And Dean orders pie.

**A/N: **Love it? Hate it? Let me know by leaving a review!


	11. Chapter 11: Sam

**A/N:** Thanks to all of you who have followed and favorited. Cookies to those who left a review; you fill my heart with warm fuzzies. And extra special thanks to my beta readers, Katrina and isugirl.

**Warning: **Rated T for language.

**Disclaimer: **Buffyverse owned by Joss Whedon. Supernatural owned by Eric Kripke.

* * *

**Chapter Eleven: Sam**

"Willow says that Sunnydale has classes in demonology and occultism," said Sam, gesturing to the girl on his left. "I could help you and Dad while still going to college."

"So, what, you wanna go to college?" Dean asked.

They'd decided to forego the food court in favor of a diner a couple of blocks from campus. Buffy assured them that, of the places that serve food 24 hours a day, this was one of the better ones. So the five of them had squeezed into one of the big round booths in the back. Sam had slid in next to Buffy without thinking, well, maybe thinking a little bit, and hadn't realized that Willow was behind him.

Dean, however, must be feeling pretty claustrophobic sandwiched between Xander and Buffy. Sam was used to being on the inside seat with either his dad or brother beside him. But Dean, with his hunter's instinct, always sat on the end, ready to get out at a moment's notice. _I bet it's killing him_.

"Why shouldn't he go to college if he wants?" Buffy asked. "I never thought I'd be able to do anything like this. Being the Chosen One doesn't exactly lend itself towards academics with all the late night world-saving I have to do. Luckily, someone decided that a Hellmouth is an excellent place to build a higher learning establishment."

"What's a Hellmouth?" said Dean through a mouthful of double cheeseburger with bacon.

"It's like a huge mouth," Xander replied, "but instead of teeth, there are big tentacle-y demons and uber-vamps. And it sends out a message, on a frequency only demons can hear, telling all the other baddies out there that this is a center of weirdness and they should come wallow in it."

Dean chuckled. Sam wasn't sure what he found so funny. But the two of them seemed to be getting along really well, which was unusual for his brother. It's not like he couldn't make friends. With as many schools as they'd been to, he'd learned how to get people to like him because loners get picked on. And socially conscious girls, usually the hottest ones, wouldn't date him if he were too much of an outsider.

After he decided he was finished with school, though, Dean dropped out and hadn't tried making friends with anyone since. Sam wasn't sure if he was making friends with Xander to impress Buffy or if he actually liked the guy. His brain told him it was the former, but his gut told him that his brain should shut up because he couldn't remember seeing his brother laugh like that.

"Willow," Sam said, "you mentioned that the classes were mostly theoretical. Have you tried doing any of the stuff they talk about?"

"Only little stuff mostly. I did a spell to cleanse the school of an angry ghost, but it went wrong and got invaded by wasps instead." The corners of her lips threatened to curve down, but she brightened up, recalling a more successful attempt. "The most complicated spell I've done was when we had to give An—Ouch! – a soul to a vampire."

Dean snorted. "Why would you want to do that?"

Xander was eyeing Buffy from across the table, and Sam could see her give a little shake of her head when he looked at her. The guy looked disappointed at her response.

"Because he needed it back so we could stop the Apocalypse." Buffy's voice had a definitive edge to it. It wasn't like his father or Dean's authoritative voice. Hers said that the matter was over.

"So to stop the Apocalypse," his brother said, obviously missing the subtle hint in her tone, "you had to stake a vampire with a soul?"

"Stabbed with a sword. But something like that, yeah."

"That's pretty badass!"

"So, Sammy," said Willow, breaking the uncomfortable silence that Dean seemed blissfully unaware of, "what other subjects do you like at school? You know, other than demon-y research."

"It's Sam," he said with a sigh. "And I kinda like m—"

"What's wrong with 'Sammy'?" cried Dean.

"'Sammy'," he said, glaring at his brother, "is a chubby twelve-year-old kid."

"It's okay, Sam." Buffy pat his arm before sneaking a fry off his plate. "Try having to tell everyone that Buffy isn't a silly nickname but your actual name."

Everyone laughed and the friction was gone. That's what made Buffy so cool. She could have a little laugh at her own expense. Life for her wasn't all about fighting evil and demons; it was friends and school and normal stuff like that.

"So Xander," said Dean, "where'd you get your explosives training to knock out the snake thing?"

"That's a funny story. See, we all got turned into our costumes one year. I was dressed like an army man, Buffy went as an eighteenth century damsel-in-distress, and Willow was a – what were you again?"

"I was a ghost!"

"You weren't dressed like one." Xander raised his arms in an apologetic, if defensive, way.

"I was wearing a ghost costume over the outfit Buffy tried to get me to wear."

"Which was?"

"A hoochie mama." Buffy had a sly smile on her lips. "And you looked way hot in it, too, Will."

"I kinda did, didn't I?"

"So anyways," Xander continued, "I lucked out because I got all the army man knowledge without going to boot camp."

"Wish we could do that. Dad's been training us since we could walk."

"Yeah?" Dean glared at him. "And where do you think we'd be if he didn't?"

Of course he'd defend Dad. Dean was the favorite, who gobbled up every word Dad said as honest-to-God truth. He loved being a hunter. That's why he'd never tried hard in school because you didn't need math or poetry or the history of the American Revolution to kill demons.

"Hey!"

"See what I mean? Training." Dean held up Buffy's wrist as proof. "These are my fries. I'd say take some from Sammy, but I think you ate them all."

"But Slayers have high metabolism rates. And fries make my tummy happy." She stuck out her lower lip and if Sam had anything left on his plate, he would have gladly given it to her. He'd, of course, noticed that she was eating his fries, but didn't care. Unlike Dean, who had turned his plate so that his fries were as far from Buffy as he could get them.

"Excuse me, Shannon?" said Dean, calling over the waitress. His fingers were still circled around Buffy's wrist. "Can I get a slice of apple pie? You guys want anything? No? And, um, do you think you can throw in an extra plate of fries, please?" He flashed the waitress a big grin, then added a wink for good measure.

"Sure thing, sweetheart. I'll even put it on the house for a smile like that."

Dean thanked her and released his grip on Buffy.

"You think you're so cute, don't you?" she said, scrunching up her face at him.

"I think I'm adorable." He smiled down at her as he angled his plate back within her reach.

She graced him with her own smile as she reached for one of his fries unimpeded.

_How the hell does he manage to turn an asshole move into a romantic gesture_? Sam knew he could never pull that off the way Dean did. Sure, his brother had a lot of practice with women, like a _lot_ of practice. And Sam had seen more of Dean in action than he cared to admit. But this was something new and totally different, which meant his brother was going off the playbook. It also meant that Sam probably didn't have a chance with Buffy now.

* * *

_Next up _**Chapter 12: Buffy** Girl talk in the bathroom. It doesn't pass the Bechdel test. (Thank you, tvtropes, for ruining my life!)

**A/N: **Love it? Hate it? Let me know by leaving a review!


	12. Chapter 12: Buffy

**A/N:** Thanks to all of you who have followed and favorited. Cookies to those who left a review; you fill my heart with warm fuzzies. And extra special thanks to my beta readers, Katrina and isugirl.

**Warning: **Rated T for language.

**Disclaimer: **Buffyverse owned by Joss Whedon. Supernatural owned by Eric Kripke.

* * *

**Chapter Twelve: Buffy**

"Will, remind me again why I thought falling for Dean Winchester was a bad thing?" Buffy leaned against the wall, feeling slightly ashamed that she'd played the rarely used girly card and followed Willow into the bathroom. Then again, she'd never had to use it before. Angel wasn't the type of guy that hung out with her friends. Considering his last group of friends had been psychopathic, blood-sucking vampires, that was probably a good thing.

"But he was so cute with the fry thing," Willow said through the stall door.

"I know, right? It was so sweet I could have kissed him right there. I almost did!" He'd given her a playful, affectionate smile when he offered her his fries. It was so different from the practiced grin he'd used on her last night. And on the waitress just a few minutes ago. "What if it's all an act? I thought Parker was sweet, with the sad story of how his dad passed away, but it was all an elaborate plot to get in my pants. Plus, Sam says his brother hits on, well, anything human, female, and pretty."

"If that's true, then at least you know he thinks you're pretty."

"You're supposed to be talking me out of this, Willow," said Buffy as she examined herself in the mirror. She wondered if she should leave her hair in a ponytail or let it down. Dean hadn't seen her with her hair down yet. But then it would have the little kink from the elastic and that wasn't pretty at all.

"Well, I don't know, Buffy." Willow finished up and started washing her hands at the sink. "On the one hand, he knows who you are, and he's okay with that. And he's a hunter, so he's kinda prepared to fight with you and won't be all out of his league like me and Xander were when we started with the helping."

"He'd still be in danger. And I'd still worry about him."

"The same way you worry about the rest of us Scoobies." Willow smiled at Buffy's raised eyebrow and rephrased her comment. "Okay, maybe not the same. But you worried about Angel, and he was all big, strong vampire with the supernatural healing!"

"I also told Angel that I was done with office romances when he broke up with me." It had only been five months since that disastrous prom, and only a little less than that since he'd run away to L.A. "He said he wanted me to have a 'normal' life. Life with Dean wouldn't be normal."

"I hate to break it to you, Buff, but your life ain't normal. _Our_ lives aren't normal. Besides, who said anything about spending a whole lifetime with him?"

"What, you mean I should be like Faith?"

"No!" Willow muttered something that sounded like "skanky ho" before continuing with her train of thought. "Buffy, this is our first year of college. We may not get to do the whole pledge a sorority, study abroad, and... all those other things normal college kids do, but it doesn't mean we can't have college experiences that are just as fun. And part of that is experimenting with your sexuality."

"Does this mean we're going to get really drunk and make out sometime, Will?"

"No! Well, I dunno, vampire me was kinda gay." A range of emotions flashed across her face until she dismissed them with a shake of her head. "But seriously, this thing with Angel isn't going to work. You start with the canoodling and he gets all evil. The way you feel about him, the way he feels about you, it's gonna happen sooner or later. And I don't wanna see you get hurt like that again."

Buffy nodded, letting her gaze drift to the floor. Willow cared about her, she'd proven that time and again, but Will was also scared of Angel becoming evil again. And she had a good reason to be. The worst Dean _could_ do, as a human, paled in comparison to what Angelus _had_ done. "So you think I should let myself 'experiment'? With Dean?"

"I think letting go of Angel starts with letting yourself be free to date other guys and be okay to have feelings for them. You could do a lot worse than Dean Winchester."

"What about all the other girls he's been with?" Buffy frowned, thinking over some of the stories Sam had told her about Dean. Then again, he had a big crush on her, so maybe he'd exaggerated a bit. Or maybe not. "What if he's just in it for the sex and wants to add a Slayer notch to his belt?"

"None of those girls has ever been you. You're the total package, Buffy. And if he can't see that, then – well, then, he's just a poopy head."

Buffy giggled. Maybe Willow was right. Maybe she was over-thinking this whole thing and she should let things happen naturally. She'd just have to make Dean work for it, if only to prove to herself that Angel's departure hadn't left her emotionally crippled and desperate for affection.

"Hey," said Willow, her voice small and worried. "Why do you think they're here? You don't – you don't think... Oz is safe, right?"

"No. I don't think. The full moon just passed, and the next one is three weeks away. And they seemed more interested in Sunnydale High than anything else." Her thoughts flicked back through last night's conversation when she heard her best friend exhale a shaky breath. "Will, no, it's okay. I'll find out for sure. If they're here to hurt him, I don't care how hot Dean is or how sweet Sam is, I will hurt them."

Willow gave her a teary-eyed smile. Buffy returned it with a reassuring one of her own. They linked their arms and left the safety of their feminine sanctuary together.

* * *

"So, what are you guys doing tonight?" Xander asked Dean. They had almost reached Stevenson Hall, taking a slightly different route back from the diner. The camaraderie that developed over lunch continued on the walk back, and everyone seemed a little unwilling to part.

"What's there to do on a Saturday night in a town on top of a Hellmouth?"

"Well, instead of going around and getting scared out of our minds by all the evil, we figured we'd sit around watching other people getting scared out of their minds. And enjoy watching them get hacked to bits."

"Otherwise known as 'Scary Movie Marathon'," Buffy explained. "At Xander's house. Or basement, actually."

"Which is a scary movie, in and of itself."

"Sounds like fun," said Sam, shooting a hopeful glance at his brother.

Buffy couldn't resist casting her eyes up at Dean, wanting him to see her own hopeful expression at the thought of spending more time together. They hadn't talked much, but she'd walked beside him, her hand brushing his every so often.

"I'll call Dad and ask," he said, giving her a ghost of a smile.

"So," said Buffy, "what've we got lined up?"

"Well, we've got your zombies: _Evil Dead II_, _Night of the Living Dead_, and _Dawn of the Dead_. Then there's the ghostly possessions: _Poltergeist, The Exorcist,_ and_ The Haunting of Hill House_. Or there's scary hillbilly fun with _Texas Chainsaw Massacre_ and _Deliverance_, which, as usual, is met with a resounding 'No!'"

"Impressive list," Sam said. "I'm pretty sure Dean will approve, especially with _Evil Dead _on there. How about _An American Werewolf in_—"

"No!" shouted Willow.

"We, um, all got food poisoning the last time we saw it," Buffy explained, a tight smile on her lips, "so it's not on our to-watch list anymore."

Sam nodded, seemingly unfazed by her lame excuse. She needed to settle that soon to ease Willow's mind. Sam would probably tell her what she wanted to know, but she knew she would have to talk to Dean because if they _were_ here to hunt Oz, they'd have to be persuaded to leave. While the younger Winchester would be much easier to convince, the older one called the shots.

"Dad said okay." Dean returned, a confused look on his face as he stared at the phone in his hand. He glanced at Sam and shrugged. They both seemed surprised by their dad's response, and it made Buffy wonder why their father kept them on such a tight leash.

"Great," exclaimed Xander. "Here's the address. Meet up at my house around five. Girls, you bring the pizza, I'll provide the juice boxes."

"I guess that means we're bringing the beer."

* * *

_Next up _**Chapter 13: Dean **Buffy wants the truth. Dean just wants to be with Buffy.

**A/N: **Love it? Hate it? Let me know by leaving a review!


	13. Chapter 13: Dean

**A/N:** Thanks to all of you who have followed and favorited. Cookies to those who left a review; you fill my heart with warm fuzzies. And extra special thanks to my beta readers, Katrina and isugirl.

**Warning: **Rated T for language.

**Disclaimer: **Buffyverse owned by Joss Whedon. Supernatural owned by Eric Kripke.

* * *

**Chapter Thirteen: Dean**

Dean stood in front of the Harris residence, nervously shifting his weight from side to side. He didn't have the best track record when it came to meeting parents. Yeah, it's not like he was dating Xander, but his parents could still make tonight difficult if they chose. And he wanted the evening to go well. _And that wouldn't have anything to do with Buffy, would it?_

"So, are you gonna knock," asked Sammy, his arms full of beer and soda, "or are we standing here all night?"

"Shut up, bitch." Dean took a deep breath and raised his hand to knock on the door.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Buffy shouted as she hopped out of a black van. She was perfectly balancing a half-dozen pizzas in one hand as if they weighed nothing while Willow gave her boyfriend a goodbye kiss. "Not unless you want to lose the beer."

"Are they religious or something?"

"Nah. But his dad'll drink them all." She smiled and gestured for them to follow. "We usually go in the back way. It's far less traumatic."

"So, Buff," asked Willow, catching up with them, "how long can you stay?"

"You're not staying?" Sammy cried. Dean was glad he hadn't been the one to ask, but he was just as anxious for the answer as his brother.

"I've gotta patrol tonight. Keep the streets safe so that other people can enjoy their active social lives."

"That sucks."

"Life of a slayer." She gave a small shrug and opened the back door. "Hey Xand, where do you want these?"

* * *

They started off with _Night of the Living Dead_. By the time the first zombie appeared, Buffy and her friends were already discussing the ways to kill it, what weapons they would use, and the best way to fortify the building the characters were trapped in. Dean and Sammy jumped right in, having had this conversation whenever they watched horror movies. It was a nice change to be able to argue a point without already knowing how the other would respond.

About halfway through the movie, Dean had leaned back and rested his arm on the couch, so that it was behind Buffy, but not touching her. He felt like a damn kid again, nervous of making the first move, hoping that she'd notice and praying that she didn't. If it were anyone else, she'd have been in his lap and half-naked by now. Instead, he was grinning like an idiot because she'd shifted a few inches closer until her shoulder was nestled against his body.

"What time is it?" asked Buffy as the ending credits rolled. She reached over and grabbed his left arm, examining his watch. "Crap. I gotta go. Hopefully, it won't be too busy out there and I can come back before you all fall asleep."

Dean tried not to feel disappointed when she dropped his hand and stood up.

"Willow," Buffy said, looking alarmed as she searched the pockets in her jeans and leather jacket, "did I bring my beeper?"

"You handed it to me while you poked around in the weapons' chest. Then the phone rang, and it was Oz, and I said we'd be down in a sec." Willow wrinkled her forehead and frowned. "Oh, Buffy, I left it on the desk when I went to answer the phone. I'm so sorry."

"I can take you back," said Dean. He tried to keep the excitement from showing in his voice. From the dirty look Sammy shot him, he didn't think he'd succeeded.

"You could? You're a total life saver."

He got up, shooting a wink at his brother who was sitting on the floor. And then he remembered that his brother was sitting on the floor. He sighed. "Come on, Sammy. I guess you gotta come, too."

"Dean," said Buffy, cutting off Sammy's gleeful reply, "let him stay and watch the movie. He'll be safe with Xander and Willow."

"But, Dad'll kill him if anything happens to me."

"Sam, Will and Xand have been fighting with me for the past three years, and you said you've been training since you could walk. I don't think anything bad is gonna happen to you." Her reassuring smile transformed into a smirk. "Unless Xander has a date. They usually turn out to be evil. Including Cordelia. Well, okay, she wasn't so bad in the end."

Dean hesitated, looking down at his brother.

"Hey man," Xander said, "what can we do to make this place safer?"

Dean expected to see weary resignation in Xander's face or some sign that he was just trying to humor an overprotective older brother. Instead, Xander was looking at him in earnest, as if he would gladly do what was needed to protect himself and his friends. Dean felt proud and thankful that he and Sammy were included in that list.

"Salt across the doors and windows. Seems to work against spirits, mostly."

Xander nodded, braving the stairs to search the kitchen.

"I'll be back in a few, Sammy. You call me if you need me."

"Whatever."

Dean smacked his brother on the back of the head on the way out the door.

* * *

"Thanks for doing this, Dean. Sorry you have to miss part of _Evil Dead_. Sam said you like that movie."

"No big deal. I was actually gonna ask if you wanted company on patrol tonight."

"Really? Are you okay with leaving Sam that long?"

"I trust Xander. And Willow, too."

"That means a lot to me." She sat quietly for a little while. When she spoke, her voice was soft and tentative. "Dean, why is your family in Sunnydale?"

"Honestly? Because of you." He heard her gasp, so he glanced at her. She eyed him warily, her body angled as defensively as she could be in the passenger seat. "No, Buffy, I didn't mean it that way. Shit. Sorry. What I meant was that a lot of strange things have happened in Sunnydale. When the high school blew up, Dad decided to check into it. He found a lot of disappearances, unexplained deaths, reports of unnatural phenomenon. So we came here."

"So you want to know why the high school blew up?" she asked, cautiously.

"Nah, Xander already explained that one. And I figure the rest of the stuff is the result of being on a Hellmouth. But you're here, so it's not like it's unprotected."

"So why are you still here?"

"Well, for one, I can't tell Dad that you're a Slayer, if he even knows what that is. And, two," he said, sparing a quick look at her before pointedly focusing on the road ahead, "I don't want to leave yet."

Dean loved being a hunter. When Sammy was 8, Dean had told him that their father was a superhero who fought monsters. Even though he no longer believed that Dad was a superhero, especially not after meeting Buffy, he still admired him and wanted desperately to follow in his footsteps. It was dangerous and exciting and, _goddamnit_, he was making the world a better place.

But it was a lonely life. Aside from the occasional month or so they'd spent with Pastor Jim or Uncle Bobby, all Dean had was Dad and Sammy. Being with Buffy and her friends today made him realize that he was missing something. He didn't care that she was better than him. He simply wanted to be around her, to make her smile, to feed her insatiable metabolism rate. He wanted to hang out with her friends, not just because they were important to her, but because they seemed like really cool people. Even if one of them seemed to be interested in becoming a witch.

"Dean," Buffy said, touching his shoulder, "if you want to tell your dad, you... I trust you. And, um, I don't want you to leave, either."

He took her hand in his, giving it a small squeeze, and drove the rest of the way with one hand on the steering wheel.

* * *

_Next up _**Chapter 14: Buffy **A detour to a frat party leads to a run-in with Parker. And a familiar vampire.

**A/N: **Love it? Hate it? Let me know by leaving a review!


	14. Chapter 14: Buffy

**A/N:** Thanks to all of you who have followed and favorited. Cookies to those who left a review; you fill my heart with warm fuzzies. And extra special thanks to my beta readers, Katrina and isugirl.

**Warning: **Rated T for language.

**Disclaimer: **Buffyverse owned by Joss Whedon. Supernatural owned by Eric Kripke.

* * *

**Chapter Fourteen: Buffy**

Buffy smiled as saw Dean leaning against the hood of his precious car, admiring the way he looked in his worn jeans and battered brown leather jacket. It felt weird to think that she'd only known him for a day. That she'd thought of him as a macho jerk for ruining her evening. And that she'd tried to ditch him so she could stake a vampire. It was actually sort of amazing that he was still talking to her with a first impression like that.

"Did you find it?" he asked when he caught sight of her.

"Right where she said it would be. And I called and told Willow you were coming on patrol with me, so Sammy won't worry." She'd also assured her friend that Oz was safe. Maybe now he'd feel comfortable hanging out while Dean and Sam were around.

"I'm sure he was real happy about that," he said, smirking. He opened her door with a bow. "After you, my lady. Where to now?"

"Check out the closest cemetery, look for fresh graves." She directed him south, through Greek Row, completely forgetting that it was Saturday night. Her eyes skimmed across the crowd as the traffic slowed to a crawl, and her eyes caught the bright glow of pale skin and platinum-blond hair. _No, he wouldn't come back. Not unless he's a glutton for punishment. _"Change of plans. How would you like to go to a frat party?"

Dean shot her a look that made it clear he did _not_ want to go, but he pulled the car into a spot. She hopped out before he could come around to her side. There it was again, a flash of slicked-back, unnaturally bright hair. She grabbed Dean's hand. "Come on."

He might have said something in protest or pulled away, but she didn't notice. If she was right, and she hoped she wasn't, then there was trouble ahead. And she needed Dean to stay safely by her side.

She slowed once they got inside Wolf House, searching for that face with the prominent cheekbones and the scar above his left eye. Her instincts automatically disregarded anyone without blond hair, so she didn't even notice when she ran into some guy with black hair.

"Buffy?"

"I'm so sorry. I wasn't—" Forcing herself to focus on the person in front of her, she blinked in surprise as she realized who she'd run into. "Parker?"

His eyes followed her arm to her hand, firmly clasped in Dean's, and up to the icy emerald eyes on a face as hard and inexpressive as stone. "Buffy, I've been meaning to call you. I'm really sorry about what happened last night. I wanted to apologize."

She felt Dean trying to tug his hand from hers. Rather than pulling back, she let his momentum draw her to him. Her eyes sought his, hoping to find an answer for his odd behavior, but he refused to look at her. Instead, he plastered on his smug grin and raised his eyebrows suggestively. "Sorry, Parker. I guess she wanted to go home with a real man."

"Don't tell me you're really here with this guy. I thought you were better than that. The Buffy I know wouldn't hook up with a complete stranger."

"Parker," she said. She wanted to tell him that he _didn't_ know her, that Dean wasn't a stranger, and that Dean was a better man than him by far. Instead, she asked, "Have you seen a guy with bleach-blond hair, probably wearing a leather duster, talks with a British accent? Kind of, um, looks like Billy Idol?"

"Huh?" replied Parker. And Dean.

Buffy realized that she'd never told Dean why they were here. He'd probably asked, but she'd been so intent on the hunt that she hadn't listened and simply dragged him through the house. She looked, really looked, at Dean and saw confusion, anger, jealousy, and a twinge of pain hidden away behind his implacable façade. He didn't really believe those things that Parker said, did he? She'd just have to set it right. After she caught Spike.

"Remember our friend?" She smiled up at him, hoping he could read the apology in her eyes. "The one with the sharp, pointy teeth who likes his meat raw? The bloodier, the better?"

His eyes narrowed as he listened to her words. The he smiled. The real Dean Winchester smile; _her_ Dean's smile.

"I tried, Buffy. I really tried to like you," Parker said. "I wasted a whole _freaking_ week! But you're just not normal."

Dean's fist connected with Parker's jaw, knocking him out cold. He pulled Buffy to him, wrapping an arm protectively around her shoulders as he propelled her out of the room. She found a less crowded spot near a doorway and pulled him close.

"What was that for?" Even standing on her toes, he had to lean down so she could speak into his ear.

"Because I didn't want you to beat me to the punch like you did last night. And because," he said, stroking a lock of hair from her face, "you _are_ worth it."

She closed her eyes, her lips sought his, and she was falling – falling sideways? Her eyes flew open and she turned to face the interrupting jerk who'd knocked into her.

"Spike." She filled her voice with as much loathing as she could possibly muster. Then her gaze drifted across his victim – a wounded, but still-breathing frat boy – and landed on an unexpected face. "And Harmony."

"Buffy. Hi." Harmony's eyes rolled down Buffy's body in a very judge-y way. "What a cute outfit. Last year." How was it that she managed to remain the same vapid wannabe she'd been before she'd lost her soul, while Angel became a sadistic demon? Maybe she was soulless all along.

"Well, this is interesting," Spike said. "Sort of a double date."

"Looks like your friend started the party a little early, huh?" said Dean. He drew himself up to his full height so that he looked down on the vampire. She might have felt resentment at him for towering over her in such a masculine display except that he shifted his body slightly behind hers, allowing her to lead while showing his support.

"So," Spike said, no doubt observing the dynamic between them, "let's have a look at the new boy."

"Hi, I'm Dean Winchester. Who the fuck are you?"

Spike's eye twitched at Dean's name, but he ignored the question. Instead, his gaze drifted over Dean's broad shoulders and clenched fists, all the while looking unimpressed. "Hmmm. I like him. He's got – what's the word?" He smiled as he focused on the pulsing vein at Dean's throat. "Vulnerability."

"And you," Buffy said, drawing his focus back to her, "with Harmony. What'd you do? Loose a bet?"

"Hey," Harmony cried, although it had taken a minute before she realized that she'd been insulted. Becoming a vampire must have increased the blood flow to her brain.

"Actually, how we met. It's a funny story—"

Buffy lunged to the side as Spike flung his victim towards them. Sparing a glance at Dean, who'd caught the boy and was motioning for her to go, she leapt over the couch in pursuit of the vampire. She dodged a few drunken partygoers, following the shock of white-blond hair and the flutter of his black coat out the doors.

It was a little quieter outside on the porch, less crowded, but Spike was nowhere to be seen. She knew he couldn't have gotten far. Reaching inside her jacket, she took out Pointy, Jr. and cautiously made her way down the short flight of stairs. Her instincts urged her to the left, around a large bush, and towards the side of the building.

She spotted a suspiciously dark patch in the foliage ahead. As if hiding behind a tree trunk would work in real life the way it did in cartoons. _Same old Spike_. She stalked down the walkway until she was almost upon him. With a quick spin, she punched into the darkness, her fist seeking his cold, dead flesh.

He deflected her blow, returning it with one of his own.

"What's the matter Spike?" said Buffy, feigning concern. "Dru dump you again?"

She hit him with a combo this time, a backhanded blow with the left – _blocked_ – followed by a cross from the right – _blocked_ – ending with a punch from the left – _landed_!

"Maybe _I_ left _her_."

Buffy attacked again, but Spike used her momentum to fling her around so that they exchanged places. Harmony now stood beside him, and Buffy wondered, fleetingly, where Dean was and whether he was okay.

"She left him for a fungus demon." Harmony let out an exasperated sigh. "That's all he talks about most days."

"Harm!" said Spike, turning to glare at her. "We are going. It isn't time yet."

"Yeah, but as soon as we have the Gem of Amarra, you're gonna be sorr—"

"Argh!" He grabbed her arm angrily, yanking her away without a care for her protests.

But the damage was done, and Buffy knew what they were looking for. She didn't know what it did or what it looked like, although she knew a certain stuffy, unemployed Englishman who would be glad to have something to do.

"You okay?" Dean asked, racing to her side as she watched Harmony and Spike leave. She let out a brief sigh of relief at the sight of him, not realizing that she'd been holding her breath.

"Dean, no," said Buffy when he moved to follow them. "Spike's dangerous, but he's impulsive, which makes him incompetent. And Harmony... well, she makes goldfish look smart."

"Cockney Ken and Party Girl Barbie aren't exactly harmless, Buffy."

"I know, but I'd feel better if I knew more about this Gem of Amarra they talked about." She shot him a wry smile before turning away to search for a payphone. "I need to call my Watcher."

"Watcher, huh? Sounds kinda kinky, but I'm not sure ho—"

"He's like my mentor," she said, rolling her eyes. "And trainer. He used to follow me on patrol and grade me on my slaying. I got an 'A' in punning." She smiled fondly at the memory of Giles, exasperated over her chattiness and flippant attitude towards slaying. She glanced up at Dean to tell him about it, and the smile fell from her face. "By the way, I owe you an apology."

"What for?"

"I'm so used to hunting alone that when I saw Spike, I went into full Slayer mode." It was an excuse and not a particularly good one. She hung her head. "I guess that means I get an 'F' in communication."

"It's okay, Buff." He slipped a finger under her chin, forcing her to look at him. She was amazed to see that he'd surprised her again. It _was_ okay. "I mean, at first I thought... But once I realized what was going on, I had your back."

"I know, and I... thank you." It wasn't enough. Not nearly enough for what he'd done for her, what he'd given her. She searched his face and realized that maybe there was something she could do. "You know, those things that Parker said... None of it was true. You're not—"

His finger moved from her chin to her lips, silencing her. "You go call your Watcher. I'll call Sammy and see if he can help."

* * *

_Next up _**Chapter 15: Sam **Research gets interrupted by an unexpected visitor.

**A/N: **Love it? Hate it? Let me know by leaving a review!


	15. Chapter 15: Sam

**A/N:** Thanks to all of you who have followed and favorited. Cookies to those who left a review; you fill my heart with warm fuzzies. And extra special thanks to my beta readers, Katrina and isugirl.

**Warning: **Rated T for language.

**Disclaimer: **Buffyverse owned by Joss Whedon. Supernatural owned by Eric Kripke.

* * *

**Chapter Fifteen: Sam**

Sam looked at his watch as the ending credits of _Dawn of the Dead _rolled and wondered how much longer Buffy and his brother would be out on patrol. He should have fought harder to make Dean take him along to the dorm. Then he'd be with them instead of here with the B Team.

"Want another slice of pizza, Sammy – Sam?" Willow asked.

"No, thanks." Now that she was consciously making an effort to call him that, he felt a little guilty for making such a big deal about it earlier.

Xander got up to switch out the movies when the phone rang. Sam hoped it was Dean saying they were done and were heading back now. Because the less time Buffy spent with his brother, the better.

"Hey, man," said Xander. He looked over his shoulder at Sam, which meant that Dean had to be on the other end. "Yeah, he's right here."

"I'm fine," Sam said, before his brother could say anything. "What do you want?"

"We ran into some vampires at a frat party."

"Are you okay?" His irritation over being left behind was quickly replaced by worry. It was an irrational fear, he knew, because Dean was one of the best. And he was with the Slayer. But he worried all the same. "What about Buffy?"

"We're fine," said Dean, his voice gruff, "but Buffy's had a run in with them before. Spike and Harmony."

"I'll ask the others."

"They said they're looking for something called the 'Gem of Amarra.' See what you can find out about it."

"But our books are back at the motel." Sam sighed in frustration. If they'd gotten a laptop instead of blowing all the cash on ammo and weapons and alcohol, he could have done something. And he could keep up with his homework when he went from school to school.

"I know, man. I'm sorry. Maybe Willow and Xand have stuff there." Dean cleared his throat. Sam knew what that meant. He could lie to damn near anyone without a single tell, but he couldn't lie to his little brother without giving himself away. "Me and Buffy are gonna keep working this end, you know, see if we can locate their lair, or whatever, and I don't know how long it's gonna take. Are you okay with staying there tonight?"

"I'm not a child anymore."

"Dad'll have my ass if anything happens to you," said Dean, throwing Sam's words back in his face. "Look, you're safer there than with us. But if you're not okay, I can pick you up and we'll go back to the motel."

"And leave Buffy to look for a vampire lair by herself?" He wasn't sure what Dean had been lying about, but Sam knew Buffy would be safer if his brother was at her side. And it was clear that tagging along on the hunt was not an option. He sighed. "I'll be okay. Hey Dean... promise me you'll be safe."

"I promise." Dean's voice softened, acknowledging his brother's worried tone. Being Dean, though, he wasn't about to let his emotions show too much. "Now stop being a little bitch."

"And you won't – you won't let anything happen to Buffy?"

"Dude, she's the Slayer," said Dean. "I feel sorry for anything that _tries_ to take her on."

After a few more assurances of his safety, Sam hung up the phone. He turned to see Willow and Xander sitting on the couch trying to look inconspicuous. And failing miserably. "They're okay. Dean says they ran into Spike and, uh, Harmony?"

"Harmony's new boyfriend is _Spike_?" Willow said, surprise and disgust in her voice.

"Just when I thought he couldn't sink any lower," said Xander, shaking his head. "We went to high school with her before she got turned. She's the reason for Willow's, um, fashionable neck accessory there. As for Captain Peroxide... he likes to talk tough, but Buffy's driven his ass out of town on more than one occasion."

"Well, they're looking for a jewel – the Gem of Amarra? Dean wants me to look into it, so I was hoping you'd have some books or something we could use here." He looked, without much hope, around the room. It was full of storage boxes, tools, and broken sporting equipment, and nothing remotely resembling the books and arcane texts that they'd need for research.

"I've got my laptop," Willow said, reaching for her messenger bag. "We can look it up on the internet."

"While my family isn't known for embracing technological advancements, my father did spring for dial-up for reasons I don't care to speculate." Xander gestured for Sam to join them on the couch.

Sam grabbed the phone, but quickly realized that the cord was too short. "Umm, Xander?"

"Oh poop," cried Willow. "I must have forgotten to charge it last night. There's only half a battery left. Got somewhere I can plug in?"

"Sorry, Sam, completely forgot about that. Will, you're gonna have to move over here." Xander dragged the coffee table closer to the phone. "Luckily, there's a plug conveniently located behind this heavy bookshelf full of stuff."

Willow searched her bag for her power cord while Xander tried to shift the bookcase so he could squeeze his hand behind it. With Sam's help, they were able to move it an inch or two before they were interrupted by a knock on the back door.

"Sam, can you plug this in for her while I get that?"

"Sure." Sam took the cord from Willow and peered into the space behind the bookcase. The outlet was a few inches above the floor, about an arm's length away. He might be able to reach it if he sat down with his back flat against the wall.

"Anya," Xander said, opening the door to let in a slender brunette. "Hi again. How'd you find me here?"

"Your mother sent me around from the front of the house. She also said to ask you to add fabric softener when the timer goes off." Anya had an odd cadence to her voice. While it wasn't really a monotone, she said everything in a serious way that made fabric softener seem like a matter of grave importance. "Can we talk some more?"

"Yeah, I s'pose. You want something?" Xander gestured to the pizza boxes that had been moved to a side table. She shook her head, but he continued to play the gracious host. "I've got Cranapple."

"All right."

As he turned to his mini-fridge to grab a juice box, Anya slipped the straps from her dress and—

_Holy crap; she's naked!_

Sam knew he should probably close his eyes or look away, but he was frozen. It wasn't like he'd never seen a woman's breasts before. Dean had ordered pay-per-view a couple times when he thought his little brother had gone to sleep. But he'd never been crass enough to bring a girl back to the motel room. So Sam hadn't actually ever seen a naked girl before. Not this close. Not in real life.

"You know," Xander said, "it's customary to call before you show up, not that—"

He heard the splash of Cranapple juice hitting the floor. Judging from Xander's reaction, Sam was pretty sure he didn't expect Anya to get naked, either.

"Hey, Sam," said Willow, "it's not charging, did you—woah, Anya! Inappropriate much?"

Willow jumped out of her seat and covered Sam's eyes with her hand. At first, he was annoyed, but then his logical head took over. Anya's display wasn't meant for him and he probably should have closed his eyes the second her dress hit the floor. Well, probably sooner, but it all happened so fast.

"You have friends here," Anya said in that same matter-of-fact tone. "I thought you would be alone. Go away."

Sam looked below Willow's hand and could see Anya's feet pointed in his direction, so she must have meant that last comment for him and Willow. He would have loved to leave because he was getting rather uncomfortable, but he didn't really have a choice in the matter. And she still hadn't picked her dress up, which meant that she was still very naked.

"Anya," said Xander, shaking himself out of his stupor, "these are my friends, and I've invited them here. Why don't you put your—"

"Anya, could you please put some clothes on?" Willow cried. "This is kinda embarrassing."

"Oh wow," said Anya, her voice much closer this time. "You're one of his. It's such an honor."

Sam figured that she meant him since she already knew Xander, so he stood up to shake her hand and introduce himself, thinking that would be the polite thing to do.

"S-s-sam Winchester," he said. It had been a mistake standing up. She didn't seem to have a very clear idea of what personal space meant. And without Willow's hand covering his eyes, he could see everything. As in _everything_. Even though he tried to keep his eyes focused on hers, he was at least half a foot taller than her. And she was standing very close.

"No. No, you're not ready. You're too young." She peered at him, disappointed. "He doesn't want you yet."

"Anya," said Xander, offering her dress back with his head scrupulously turned away from her naked body, even though she'd gotten naked for him, "why don't you put this back on and we can go talk outside?"

"Very well." Anya stepped into her dress, sliding it up her body, prompting Sam to squeeze his eyes shut. He was actually glad that Dean wasn't here because the teasing would have been merciless. Although he might have been distracted by the nakedness.

"Who was that?" he asked Willow after Anya and Xander stepped out of the room.

"That's Anya." Willow pointedly handed him back the forgotten power cord and resumed her seat in front of the laptop. "You'll have to excuse her, she's recently human."

"You mean Buffy wasn't lying about Xander's dates?"

"Well, there was the bug teacher who wanted to mate with him and then bite his head off," said Willow, ticking each girl off on her fingers. "Next was the Inca mummy girl. Then Cordy, who wasn't really bad, but he was the treasurer of the 'We Hate Cordelia Club,' so dating her compromised his morals. I guess I have to include Faith, but the less mention of that skanky hobag the better. And, now, Anya, who used to be a vengeance demon before she lost her power and got trapped here as a human."

"So it doesn't bother you that she used to be a demon?"

"Well, she's not evil now." Willow shrugged. In his father's eyes, a former demon was still a demon and should be hunted. Clearly, Willow's definition was much more forgiving, and he wondered if Buffy felt the same way. He hoped so. After his strange encounter last year, he realized that the world, even the supernatural one, wasn't as black and white as his father and brother would like to believe.

"What do you think she meant?" asked Sam, finally getting the cord plugged in. "I mean, about being 'one of his'."

"She says lots of stuff that doesn't really make sense to us." Willow turned her attention back to the screen, noticing that it had started charging. "Let's see if we can find something on this Gem thingy."

* * *

_Next up _**Chapter 16: Dean **He can't fight this feeling anymore. He's forgotten what he—oh hell, it's that chapter you've been waiting to read.

**A/N: **Love it? Hate it? Let me know by leaving a review!


	16. Chapter 16: Dean

**A/N:** Thanks to all of you who have followed and favorited. Cookies to those who left a review; you fill my heart with warm fuzzies. And extra special thanks to my beta readers, Katrina and isugirl.

**Warning: **Rated T for language and suggestive content.

**Disclaimer: **Buffyverse owned by Joss Whedon. Supernatural owned by Eric Kripke.

* * *

**Chapter Sixteen: Dean**

"What did your Watcher say?" Dean asked as Buffy hung up.

"He said it's a myth, like a Holy Grail for vampires." She started down the path, away from the noisy partygoers. "Anyways, he's got a good idea of where to start looking, which is better than what we usually have to go on."

"Well, Dad says most myths usually have a grain of truth to them 'cause they had to come from somewhere." He shrugged. Half the things they hunted were the source of various myths and legends, so a vampire Holy Grail wasn't outside the realm of possibility. "Anything else?"

"He also said that I've filled my vamp quota for the day, so I'm off the hook tonight."

"So," he said, hesitantly, "do you want to go back to the party?"

"No, not really." She paused and glanced up at him for a moment before her gaze fell.

"Me either." There had been something in her eyes, he was sure of it. Almost sure. He grasped her hand, pulling her towards him. He meant to kiss her gently, to brush her lips in a soft, almost chaste manner. To let his lips ask a question that he could not say aloud. And maybe it started out that way.

But when she murmured his name, he felt something tighten inside him. She sighed, and he used the opportunity to deepen the kiss and explore her mouth. He felt her hands come up between them, so he paused, afraid that he'd made a mistake, that he was moving too fast. He waited for her to push him away because he wasn't sure he could do it himself. Instead, her fists clutched the loose edges of his button-down shirt, pulling him harder against her. He groaned, wrapping his arms tightly around her, and lost himself in her lips.

Somehow, they made it back to the car although he couldn't quite remember how. His brain had stopped working ever since Buffy started kissing back. But she was here, now, her body pinned to the side of the car, and there was nothing in the world sexier than the sheen of her black leather jacket beside the glossy black of the Impala. Except maybe the sounds she was making as he trailed kisses across her cheek and down her throat.

His lips grazed over a bit of raised flesh where her neck met her shoulders, and he remembered what Xander had said about Buffy being bitten by that master vampire. He traced the scar with his tongue, wishing he could erase the other vampire's mark from her skin. Without really thinking, he set his teeth against her neck and sucked at the spot.

In the space of a moment, their positions were reversed and he felt the metal handle of the rear door dig into his back. Cursing himself for being a possessive jerk and probably bringing up painful memories, he raised his head to apologize. The words stuck in his throat as he stared into her lust-filled eyes.

"We should probably get out of here," she whispered, her hot breath caressing his ear as her body pressed against his. He tried to stifle a moan as she reached into the pocket of his jeans and fished out his keys.

He hurriedly opened the driver's side door and sat down, pulling her onto his lap. His lips crushed hers as his hands slipped under her jacket and felt the bare flesh of her back. Thin strips of satin teased his fingers as they crawled up and he realized that only a flimsy piece of fabric separated him from her naked chest.

With a groan, he pulled away. Her lips followed his, and he had to stop caressing her skin to hold her still. In a hoarse voice, he said, "Wait."

"I'm sorry," said Buffy, her teeth worrying her lower lip, "did I do something wrong?"

"No," he said quickly, trying to quiet the uncertainty in her eyes. He shifted uncomfortably in the seat, and her eyes widened as she felt the effect she'd had on him. It was definitely the right kind of wrong. "I just... I don't want our first time to be in a car. What about your dorm?"

"The walls are kinda thin." Her gaze dropped to a spot on his chest, and he could swear she was blushing. It would have made him smile, but her words had put all sorts of ideas in his head. "What about your place?"

"You mean the motel room I gotta share with Sammy _and_ my dad?" He winced as she adjusted her position. The back seat was looking better by the minute, but he wanted to do right by her. Buffy deserved better than that. And there were things he wanted to do to her that would be really awkward, if not impossible, to do in the backseat. Even one as big as the Impala's.

Suddenly, her eyes brightened and a smile spread on her lips as she leaned forward to whisper, "My mom's out of town this weekend."

He turned his head to hers, pressing a hard kiss against her lips. His hands slid down to her waist and, ignoring his body's protests, lifted her off him to deposit her into the passenger seat. He pulled away, already missing her warmth, and started the car.

Following Buffy's directions, he drove away from the bustling campus and turned down a quiet suburban street. He almost felt embarrassed by the loud rumble of his car's engine, out of place with the tree-lined sidewalks and wide lawns. Biting back his nervousness, he parked in front of the house she indicated, got out, and walked around to open her door.

"The porch light is off," she said, grasping his hand as he helped her out of the car. His fingers burned at her touch and he fought off the desire to kiss her again. He could wait the five minutes it would take to get inside her house. He hoped. "That's a good sign, especially this early in the evening."

He followed her up the walkway to a large house with a wide porch running across the width. Even without the lights on, there was something about it that was cozy and inviting, a place that felt like a home. Dean could barely remember the house where he'd spent the first five years of his life. It was a place that he couldn't return to, could hardly call a home anymore. Not after what had happened there.

"Wait here," she said when they'd reached the front door. She opened it slowly, peeked her head in, and called out, "Mom? Mom, are you home?"

There was no answer. She stepped inside, quickly pulling him in. He got the impression of an entryway and a wooden staircase before he was flung against the door and her lips were pressed against his. It should have scared him, the power hidden in her tiny frame. But it thrilled him, the knowledge that he got her so worked up that she forgot to hold back, forgot to temper her strength because of her passion for him.

His hands slid from her back to her waist, and then even lower, cupping her ass. She moaned into his mouth and rocked her hips against him. Taking that as an invitation, he lifted her off the ground, his hands gliding down her legs as she settled them on his hips, crossing her ankles behind his back. _All that power_, he thought, feeling the weight of her body, _and yet she's still so small, so delicate_. He pulled his lips from hers, wanting to look into her eyes, to know that this was real, that she was here. With him.

She opened her eyes, deep forest green without the flecks of gold he'd seen this morning. Giving him a little half-smile, she said, "Stairs. Hall. Door at the end."

Pushing himself off the door, he carried her up the stairs to her bedroom, his lips never leaving hers. He set her down just inside the room. Their jackets fell in a pile on the floor; his outer shirt soon followed. Her hands worked his t-shirt from his jeans, and he pulled away to yank it over his head.

The metal of his Beretta was cold against his back now that his shirt was out of the way. He took it from his waistband and set it on the dresser beside the door. She made a face, reminding him that she wasn't a big fan of firearms.

"You know," he teased, "not all of us have super strength and reflexes."

He drew her back into his arms, kissing away her protests. His fingers worked the knots of her shirt loose, and the satiny fabric fell away. Her hands snaked between them and grabbed the front of his jeans. She took a few steps back, pulling him with her, until they fell onto the bed. He kissed his way down her body, his hands deftly unbuttoning her jeans and sliding them off along with her shoes.

He stood up, then, taking a moment to admire the glow of her skin in the moonlight. The taut muscles of her legs, the creamy skin of her stomach, the rounded flesh of her breasts. But nothing sparked his desire more than the look in her eyes. He managed to keep his head together long enough to grab a condom from his wallet before kicking out of his shoes and jeans.

Her hands stroked his back as he crawled onto the bed, leaving trails of fire wherever her fingers grazed the puckered flesh of a scar. He leaned down to capture her lips again, his leg sliding between hers. She writhed beneath him, her soft skin rubbing against the hard contours of his body. He groaned and broke away from the kiss to tear the foil package with his teeth.

She froze.

"Buffy," he said, struggling to regain control of himself, "we don't have to do this if you don't want to."

"No, I-I want to, it's just..." She avoided his eyes and her teeth gnawed her lower lip again. He cupped her cheek, forcing her to look at him. He saw uncertainty and nervousness fighting against her desire. He'd seen it before in other girls, but he didn't expect it from her.

"Are you—" he started to say, not quite sure how to phrase the question. "I mean, you've... before now?"

"Yeah, I've..." she said, defensively. Then she looked away again. "But only that one time."

"Oh."

"And you've been with so many. I'm just afraid that I'll—"

"Buffy, look at me." Reluctantly, her eyes met his. "You don't ever have to worry about that. I mean it. Hell, I've been working my ass off trying to impress _you_."

"Dean," she said, pouting. Even the way she whined was a turn on.

"Buffy," he teased back. She really had no idea what she did to him. He softly stroked her cheek with his thumb and continued in a more serious tone. "You're a college girl. And a superhero. And absolutely, breathtakingly beautiful. Why the hell would you want to be with a high school dropout who's got no friends, a really dysfunctional family, and lives out of a duffle bag?"

This time, when she looked in his eyes, he felt like she was seeing him for the first time. He'd let down his guard and was more naked in front of her than he'd ever been with another woman. She put her hand on his cheek, mirroring his position, and said, "None of that matters to me."

"I care about you, Buffy." His voice grew husky with emotions he'd never felt and was too scared to explore. "In a way that I haven't cared about anyone else before."

"Does that mean it doesn't matter to you that I-I'm not, that I haven't—"

"It matters," he said, silencing her with a kiss. When he lifted his head, her brows were drawn together in that worried look of hers. "It matters because I get to take it slow. _I_ get to be the one to find out what makes _you_ feel good. And that, to me, is sexy as hell."

The muscles in his arms were starting to get sore, but he held himself up, waiting for her decision. It would kill him to walk away right now, but he wasn't about to push her into something she wasn't ready for. He'd never done it before, and he certainly wasn't about to do it now, not to Buffy.

She smiled her little half-smile and drew him down into a kiss. He hesitated, still not sure if he should leave or stay. It wasn't until she wrapped her leg around his that he started to kiss her back. She trusted him. With her secret identity, with her life, and with this. And he was going to do everything in his power not to let her down.

* * *

_Next up _**Chapter 17: Buffy **Some things lose their magic when exposed to the harsh light of day. And some things don't.

**A/N: **I have tried to keep this chapter within the T rating. If you believe that it has been improperly rated, please PM me and I will change the rating to M.


	17. Chapter 17: Buffy

**A/N:** Thanks to all of you who have followed and favorited. Cookies to those who left a review; you fill my heart with warm fuzzies. And extra special thanks to my beta readers, Katrina and isugirl.

**Warning: **Rated T for language and suggestive content. A slightly smuttier version posted at Twisting the Hellmouth.

**Disclaimer: **Buffyverse owned by Joss Whedon. Supernatural owned by Eric Kripke.

* * *

**Chapter Seventeen: Buffy**

Buffy snuggled deeper into the covers of her bed, reveling in the cushy-ness of the pillow-top mattress. She loved sleeping in her old bed. The mattress back at the dorm was stiff and uncomfortable. And Willow sometimes had weird smells coming from her side of the room. As much as Buffy loved her and wanted to support her with all this magic stuff, she also didn't want to her clo—

Her eyes flew open. She wasn't supposed to be in her old bed. She was supposed to go to Xander's after she finished patrolling so she could spend some more time with Sam and Dean. The events of last night came flooding back into her mind. A lazy smile spread across her lips and her eyes closed as she recalled how gentle Dean had been, how amazing he made her feel. She opened her eyes again and rolled over, wanting to thank him in some way. But he wasn't there.

"Dean," she called out, staring at the rumpled sheets, evidence that he had, in fact, lain next to her all night. She tried to still the panic rising inside as she called his name again, "Dean?"

Still no answer. She drew her knees up and wrapped her arms around them. Sam had tried to warn her. He'd told her stories about the crazy pick-up lines his brother used to charm women into bed. Beds that he'd leave in the middle of the night or early the next morning. Then he'd be off to another city, avoiding the awkwardness of having to run into someone he'd had a one-night stand with.

But she'd been stupid enough to believe that she was different, maybe even special. She was special alright. The Chosen One – she who repels all men after they'd spent the night with her. Maybe Faith really had been onto something with her "love 'em and leave 'em" policy. Then again, Faith was a psychotic bitch whose policies had landed her in a coma.

Buffy squeezed her eyes shut, not wanting to take a trip down _that_ memory lane. She drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly, forcing herself to calm down. She would not cry over Dean Winchester. He was a jerk. A selfish, womanizing asshole. Who, she prayed, would one day contract syphilis and die.

Feeling a little better, she opened her eyes. The glint of shiny metal on the dresser caught her attention, and she realized that it was a gun. And Dean would never, ever walk out the door without it.

_Oh yeah, Buff, _she thought, _you totally don't have abandonment issues. None at all._

Calmer now, she tuned her Slayer senses and heard the soft strains of his husky voice, singing a vaguely familiar tune. She smelled fresh coffee and melted butter. Scolding herself for having so little confidence in him, she got out of bed and went to the closet to grab her robe. Then she noticed his t-shirt lying beside his boots, along with the rest of their clothes strewn haphazardly across the floor. With a smile, she picked up his shirt and slipped it on.

She padded downstairs and followed her nose to the kitchen. Dean was standing in front of the stove wearing only a pair of jeans slung low on his hips. He had the lean body of a hunter; muscles in all the right places instead of being beefy all over. Her gaze drifted up his chest, pausing at the amulet hanging around his neck. She wondered if it was a good luck charm or protection of some sort because she'd never seen him without it. Her fingers strayed to the silver cross she still wore in spite of, or maybe because of, who had given it to her. But she quickly forced those thoughts aside and focused her attention on the man who was apparently making French toast.

"...don't make it bad. Take a sad song and make it better," he sang, scooping a slice onto the spatula. He spun around to grab a plate off the counter behind him and caught sight of her standing in the doorway. His eyes traveled down her, and she was suddenly self-conscious of her messy hair and wondered if she should have asked before throwing on his shirt. But he quickly put her worries to rest by walking over and planting a kiss on her lips. "Morning, sexy."

"Morning." Taking the plate, she followed him back to the stove where he slid another slice of French toast onto it. She set her plate next to his on the island countertop and hopped onto one of the barstools so she could talk and eat while he cooked. In her kitchen. Which was totally backwards, but she wasn't going to complain. "I didn't expect you to be all handy in the kitchen."

"I sorta remember Mom cooking breakfast on the weekends." He placed a few strips of bacon into the pan. "I feel bad that Sammy never had that, so I try to do it sometimes. Besides, cereal gets boring after awhile."

"How old were you when she died?" She remembered Sam saying that their mom had died when he was a baby, but she couldn't remember either of the brothers saying anything else about her. Maybe she shouldn't have started with a touchy subject first thing in the morning. "We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."

"Nah, it's okay," he said after a minute or two. He smiled, but it was a tight, strained smile instead of the one she was growing used to. "I was almost five. Not old enough to remember much."

"So you hold onto the ones you can." He looked up, a flash of surprise in his eyes. She didn't know what it was like to lose a parent at such a young age, but she did know what it was like to lose someone she loved. "When did you start hunting?"

"I was about six or seven when Dad took me shooting for the first time." He turned his attention back to the stove, but Buffy could tell that this was a much safer topic. Some of his old cockiness from that first night at The Bronze was even sneaking back in, but it was more endearing than irritating this time. "I don't wanna brag, but I bulls-eyed every single one of them. Dad didn't bring me on a hunt, though, until Sammy was old enough to take care of himself. Even then, I'd only get to go if we could knock it out in a day, two at the most. If it was gonna be longer than that, I stayed at the motel. Someone had to be there to take Sam to school and fill out his forms and stuff."

"No wonder he looks up to you instead of your dad," she said, taking a bite out of the bacon he put on her plate.

"Dad's done the best he could," said Dean. He didn't raise his voice, but the sound of the pan hitting the stovetop rang through the room. Buffy's proverbial foot seemed determined to find its way into her big mouth today. "Yeah, it's not the best situation, but there's a shitload of evil in the world and someone's gotta fight it. So what if that meant leaving me and Sammy alone for a couple of days. It's not like I didn't have the training to gank whatever tried to come after us."

"Dean, I didn't..." She wasn't sure how to talk her way out of this one. He obviously idolized his father, but the evidence of his neglect was pretty damning – even when Dean tried defending the man. Probably the only person he seemed to love more than his dad was his little brother. "Sammy's a really good kid. Real sweet; real smart. You and your dad have done a good job raising him."

That seemed to calm him down because he'd resumed cooking – eggs this time. Family seemed to be an extremely touchy subject, so she searched for something to talk about that wouldn't lead back in that direction.

"What was the song you were singing this morning?" she asked. "I feel like I've heard it before. Was it The Beatles?"

"Was it? I dunno." He was lying. Even with his back turned, she could tell. Trying to have a conversation with him was like walking through a field of landmines, except she couldn't step anywhere without setting off a bomb cluster. "I usually stick with the classics. Metallica, Led Zepplin, Black Sabbath."

"Those are bands?" she said, feigning confusion. The look of horror on his face was quite priceless, until he realized that she was teasing him. "Giles, my Watcher, told me he used to pick up chicks by pretending to be a member of Pink Floyd. When I told him I had no idea what he was talking about, he decided to educate me on proper music. I had to listen to _The Wall_ in its entirety."

"Sounds like he's got good taste." He was grinning again, a very good sign. "What about you? What do you usually listen to?"

"Lately I've been listening to No Doubt and Garbage, but Nerf Herder is still one of my faves." She poked at the yolk of the sunny side-up egg he'd deposited on her plate. "Your eggs are way better than mine. I always overcook them. Anyways, I'll listen to pretty much anything I can dance to."

"Just as a warning," said Dean, pointing his fork at her, "I don't dance."

They ate in silence for a little while, she sitting down while he stood, or, rather, leaned against the counter. She wanted to say something, anything, because it was starting to feel awkward and she was beginning to understand the appeal of leaving before the other person woke up.

"This is silly," she finally said, pushing away her plate. "I feel like we hardly know each other, Dean."

"What do you want to know?" She was sorely tempted to answer his question, but she'd already learned her lesson of the day. The things she wanted to know were still off-limits. "My favorite color? Probably black, maybe blue, but I never really thought much about it. Favorite food? Cheeseburger. No, pie. I don't know. None of that shit matters, Buffy." He pulled her off her chair and into his arms. "This. Us. That's what matters."

The world seemed to melt away when his lips touched hers, and she let herself believe that this really was all that mattered. Being wrapped in his arms, feeling the warmth of his body, kissing his lips; it felt so good. And to be free to feel these things, without worrying about where it would lead or whether she could stop herself before it got too far. She knew she should just accept it, but she couldn't help wanting more.

"So, what you're saying is that the sex matters," she said when their lips parted.

"Hell yeah!" He grinned down at her. "Buffy, last night... that wasn't just sex. That was – awesome doesn't even begin to describe it."

His words made her cheeks turn deep red. She knew that _she_ had enjoyed last night, the way he'd explored her body, finding little centers of pleasure that she never knew existed. But she'd been worried because she hadn't done anything to _him_, or for him, to make it memorable. And she wanted him to remember her. For more than just being the Slayer.

"What do we talk about when we're not having sex?" she asked. "You know, if that other stuff doesn't matter?"

"You mean we can't stay in bed all day?" he teased. It was another of his defense tactics, and she knew him well enough now to see through it. No matter how tempting the suggestion. His mouth curved into a tight-lipped smile, and he sighed. "Look, I know. We've only just met. But for some reason, you get me. Not just the hunter side of me, which, believe me, is more than most people see, but the other side, too. The regular side. Me. Dean Winchester in all my fucked up glory. So, yeah, that other stuff doesn't really matter 'cause from where I'm standing, you've seen all there is to see. And you haven't run away yet. Are you sure you're completely sane? I mean, I'd run away from me if I could."

"See me, with the not running? I think you're kinda stuck with me now." His arms tightened around her as he lowered his lips to hers, and she prepared herself for another mind-numbing kiss. Not that there was much she could do. Except maybe try not to swoon. She never thought of herself as a swooner, but Dean's kisses were of swoon-worthy proportions. Several minutes had passed before she regained the ability to talk, and several more before she could think to ask, "Don't you wanna know that stuff about me?"

"I know that there's no one else in the world like you, Buffy," he said. The look in his eyes told her that he saw more to her than being the Slayer. He saw all of her. And he wasn't running away either. "Besides, I get to have fun discovering all that. The way I had fun last night finding out that if I touch you here..."

His hands gently caressed the curve of her back, sending a delicious shiver up her spine. She thrust her chest against his, and her head fell back as a soft moan escaped her lips. He pushed his plate aside and lifted her onto the counter, nudging her legs apart so he could stand between them. His teeth nipped at her neck, somewhere between a bite and a kiss, as his hands stroked her thighs, teasing the skin just below the hem of the shirt.

She clutched at the muscles in his arms, willing him to go further. His hands slid under the shirt and began easing it up her body. She whispered his name, or maybe it was more of a plea. Either way, he responded with a growl, a primal grumble deep in his throat, and he yanked her forward so that she teetered on the edge of the countertop.

His phone rang.

"Shit," he muttered into the curve of her neck.

"Don't answer it." She ran her fingers lightly down his chest, her fingernails grazing the taut flesh at his stomach.

"I have to. It's either Sammy or Dad." He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, answering the phone after the second ring. "Hello."

Buffy frowned as he lifted his head from her shoulder. _Just when things were starting to get good._

"I'm, um, at a friend's house, sir," he said, looking at her.

Buffy scrunched her nose at the word "friend", although she really didn't know what else to call their relationship. Her eyes drifted down to the forgotten food and a wicked thought crossed her mind. She subtly dipped her finger on her plate, scooping up some syrup. When his gaze landed on her again, she lazily sucked the sugary liquid off her finger. Desire flared in Dean's eyes, and he clutched her thigh for a moment. Then his mouth tightened into a thin line, and he shook his head, stepping back from her.

"No, sir, he-he's not with me." He turned and walked into the hallway.

She slid off the countertop and started cleaning up. She could hear little snippets of his conversation, but it was mostly "no, sir" and "yes, sir". It was strange, hearing him act like this. He seemed more of a rebel, like the kind of guy who enjoyed raising a little hell and making a little mischief for the fun of it.

"I've gotta go pick up Sammy and get back to the motel," he said when he returned.

"Dad's pretty pissed?" She was wiping down the countertop, all other evidence of their breakfast cleared away.

"I think it's safe to say he's beyond pissed right now." He closed his eyes and leaned his back against the doorway, letting out a sigh.

"Hang on," she said, tossing the paper towel in the trash, "I'll get dressed. You probably want your shirt back."

"Keep it." His eyes fluttered open, and he flashed her a smile. The one she was starting to think of as hers. Exclusively reserved for Buffy use only. "I like the idea of you wearing it."

"Dean, your shirt is so big, it practically reaches my knees."

"Yeah, well, I think you look sexy in it." When she rolled her eyes at his comment, he drew her into his arms and placed his lips near her ear. She felt the rough stubble of his chin rub against her cheek as he whispered, "It's something that was mine. And now it's yours. I happen to think that's pretty damn sexy."

Her breath caught in her throat at his words. She was utterly surrounded by him. His legs were planted on either side of her, supporting him as he leaned against the frame of the door. His arms were wrapped tightly around her, crushing her against him. His lips nibbled and sucked at the tender flesh below her ear. She closed her eyes and breathed him in, savoring his warmth, the hardness of his body, the scent of gunpowder, leather, and sweat. Everything about him was so human and masculine, so very Dean.

_So un-like Angel._

The thought snapped her out of her kiss-induced trance, reminding her that they both had obligations and places to be. At least, that's what she told herself. It didn't make her feel any less guilty.

"Dean," she said, her palms lightly pressing his chest as she tried to push herself off him.

"Hmmm?" He pulled her closer and nuzzled her neck.

"We're supposed to be getting dressed and going to Xander's." He responded by tracing her collarbone with his tongue, sending another ripple of pleasure through her. She steeled herself for his sake. "To pick up Sammy?"

That seemed to get through to him. He was still for a minute or two, his head still buried in the crook of her neck. Finally, he took a deep breath and said, "Yeah. Okay. Right, Dad's pissed."

He raised his head, gazing at her. For a moment, she saw herself reflected in his eyes. Lips puffy and reddened from their kisses. Disheveled hair, highlighted with gold from the morning sun. Desire burning in bright green eyes. He pressed a quick, hard kiss to her lips and released her from his embrace.

"I think it's probably better if you go upstairs without me. Call me when you're dressed." He placed his hands on her shoulders and turned her around, propelling her from the kitchen. It was probably a good thing that he didn't follow her to the bedroom. She wasn't quite sure she could resist Dean anymore. Especially since she squealed with more delight than surprise when he spanked her on her way out the door.

* * *

_Next up _**Chapter 18: John** The drill sergeant returns, and Bobby asks for a favor.

**A/N: **Love it? Hate it? Let me know by leaving a review!


	18. Chapter 18: John

**A/N:** Thanks to all of you who have followed and favorited. Cookies to those who left a review; you fill my heart with warm fuzzies. And extra special thanks to my beta readers, Katrina and isugirl.

**Warning: **Rated T for language.

**Disclaimer: **Buffyverse owned by Joss Whedon. Supernatural owned by Eric Kripke.

* * *

**Chapter Eighteen: John**

"What the hell were you thinking?" John looked down at his two sons, the fear and worry he'd felt when he'd come home and found them missing quickly replaced with anger. While it wasn't unusual for Dean to sneak out for a few hours, or come stumbling through the door in the morning, Sammy rarely went out and was always in bed by dawn. The last time he hadn't been there was the time he ran away. It had been the longest two weeks of John's life.

"I'm sorry, sir," his oldest son said.

"Dean, you're supposed to be protecting your brother." He scanned the boys' appearance, noting the dark circles under Sam's eyes and Dean's missing shirt. "And you leave him with a couple of strangers so you could - what? - get a quick fuck?"

"I'm sixteen," said Sam, rising to his full height and looking much younger for his petulance. "I don't need a freaking babysitter."

"Sit down." The boy obeyed, taking a seat on the bed. John turned to his other son. "I told you that where he goes you go. We still don't have enough intel on this town to know if it's safe."

"I trust the people that I left him with," said Dean. "We made sure the entryways were salted and secure."

"You trust them?" This surprised him. He'd taught his boys to be vigilant and wary, and Dean was sometimes overly cautious when it came to his little brother. He'd known these people for one day, two at the most. "Are they hunters?"

Sammy straightened up and started to speak, but Dean quickly cut him off.

"Nah, still teenagers. Just a little more observant than the rest of this town. They realize that something's not right and have been trying to get a handle on it. Not a lot in the way of training, but they're resourceful for their age." He furrowed his brow, piecing together all the information he'd learned about the group, part of the debriefing process John had taught his sons, and something that he should have prepared beforehand. "Xander has some military experience and is a crack shot. Willow's studying the occult. Just theoretical. I haven't seen her cast a spell or use a hex bag."

"Yeah, you mentioned she's 'bookish'." John noticed that his son failed to mention the other member of the group, the whole reason Sam had been intent on meeting up with them in the first place. "So where does that other girl – Buffy? – fit in with all this?"

"With a name like that, where do you think?" His mouth twisted into a sneer, but his eyes refused to meet his father's. And Sam was glaring a hole in his brother's head. As an afterthought, or maybe to ease his discomfort, Dean dropped his sneer and added, "Sir."

"So you left Sammy with a bunch of amateurs?" Maybe it was a lie; maybe it wasn't. It hardly mattered. If Sam got hurt, the one who would be affected the most was Dean. John knew that without a doubt, so these teenagers had to be competent enough to keep Sam safe. "Fine. You teach them what you can so that they don't get themselves killed. But you boys are back at the motel at night. And you train in the mornings. Sprints, sparring, and weapons."

"Yes, sir," said Dean.

"But Da-ad." John bit back a smile as Sam whined. Yup, everything was back to normal. He played his part and glared at his son until the boy uttered, "Yes, sir."

"Did you at least find out anything useful from your night out?" John asked.

"The mayor was a sorcerer who sold his soul to become a demon," said Dean. "The gang figured it out and set a trap for him at the school, which required a large amount of explosives."

"They didn't exorcise the demon?" John had only seen demon possession a few times in his sixteen years of hunting, but he did know that destroying the body wouldn't prevent the demon from possessing another one.

"They _are_ amateurs, sir."

"And you said it was the mayor?" He glanced over at Sam, who had been suspiciously quiet since his last outburst. He was still sitting on the bed, elbows on his knees, head in his hands, eyes closed.

"Yes, sir." John wondered how much longer it had taken him than Dean, who had already noticed that his brother had fallen asleep and lowered his voice accordingly. "The others said they saw him change. He was reported as one of the people who died that day, but no body was found. Since he was at the center of the blast, he didn't leave much evidence."

"What about the school librarian? Did they mention anything about him?" Going off of Sam's clue about the library, John had dug deeper into the school records and found that the librarian had flown all the way from Britain for the job. He'd also been hired about three years ago, which coincided with the spike in deaths and missing persons reports.

"No, sir. But we have information about another case," Dean added, hesitantly.

"What's that?"

"Have you heard of the Gem of Omar?"

"Amarra," said Sam, indicating that he wasn't fully asleep.

"Geek." Dean smiled and shook his head. "It's supposedly a sacred object to vampires."

"Vampires? They're damn near extinct." His son sent him a pointed look. He was right, of course. "Near extinct" wasn't the same thing as "extinct", and hunters couldn't afford to make those mistakes. "I'll have Bobby look into it."

He dismissed the boys with a nod of his head. Dean jumped in the shower first, giving Sammy a few more minutes to rest. After Sam finished washing up and getting dressed, John took the keys for the Impala from Dean, a less than subtle reminder, and ordered them inside the car. He'd meant it when he told them they'd be training in the mornings. He drove to a nearby forest and parked near a nice, tall hill. While the boys ran up and down it, he pulled out his phone and called Bobby.

"If you're calling to complain about the boys, you can just hang up now," said Bobby. The man was never one for pleasantries.

"This little experiment of yours is done, Bobby." John wasn't quite sure why he'd agreed to Bobby's suggestion in the first place. Yeah, Sam was starting to get unmanageable, but Dean did his best to keep him in line. Now he was worrying about Dean, too. "I can't have them making stupid teenager mistakes."

"Oh, yeah? What'd they do that was so bad?"

"Dean left Sam with a couple of strangers so he could get laid."

"Well, good for him," Bobby said with a chuckle. "And I'll bet Sammy doesn't have a scratch on him."

"That's not the point." Bobby's chuckle turned into a hoot of laughter. This conversation wasn't improving John's sour mood. "Next time, remind me to take parenting advice from someone who actually has children."

"Just because they ain't mine, doesn't mean I love 'em any less." The laughter was gone and there was a fierceness in his voice. John could appreciate the man's feelings, but his boys were _his_ boys. "You keep pushing them the way you do—"

"Bobby."

"What?"

"I need you to find out what you can about a man named Rupert Giles. He's from England." Arguing with Bobby about the boys wasn't going to get them anywhere. And there was a job to do. "Bunch of strange shit started going down after he came here."

"Rupert Giles. Got it." He'd expected nothing less than Bobby's curt response.

"And the boys wanted me to ask you about something called the Gem of Amarra. A-M-A-R-R-A. Something to do with vampires."

"Vampires, huh? I'll talk to Elkins." The boys' request seemed to soften him a little, because he'd lost the formal tone. "Gettin' more reports of them these days. Remember that guy I used to run with? Turner?"

"What about him?"

"His nephew Charlie is down in L.A. trying to turn the neighborhood gang into some sort of demon-hunting crew. Turner asked if I knew someone willing to help train the boys."

John sighed. Why did it have to be Los Angeles? He hated big cities with their crowds and lights and noises. He'd always wanted to live in a quiet, peaceful town, like the one where he'd grown up. The same town he'd left behind when Mary died. "I guess we could check it out for a few days and come back when you've got something."

"Might want to leave them in Sunnydale, John. Way I remember him, Charlie and Dean'll be at each other's throats before too long."

"My son follows _my_ orders."

"That he does. He's also a cocky son-of-a-bitch who ain't above taking potshots at a crew of amateurs." Bobby was right. And he knew Sam and Dean better than anyone who wasn't a Winchester. Hell, maybe he knew all of them pretty well, because he added, "They'll be fine. This wouldn't be the first time you've left them on their own."

"Never in a town with a death rate as high as this one's," John said, finally voicing his own misgivings. And Bobby, to his credit, didn't comment on it. They both worried about those boys and wanted to keep them safe. Bobby's answer was to talk them through it while they played on soccer teams and went to school dances. John's answer was to hand them a loaded .45 and teach them to aim for the head or the heart. "Besides, these new friends of his are a bunch of amateur hunters, too."

"Yeah, well, Dean chose them. You'd be _forcing_ him to work with Charlie Gunn." Bobby sighed, and John could picture him leaning back in his chair, surrounded by books and papers. "You know he would never do anything to put Sammy in danger. They must be some trustworthy and fairly competent folk for him to leave his little brother in their care."

"I still don't like it."

"They aren't little boys anymore, John. You keep 'em locked down, they're gonna find a way out. Never seen a lock those boys can't pick." He paused, letting the words sink in. "So, you'll go down to L.A.?"

"Fine, I'll go. Alone." He knew Dean would follow his orders. They wouldn't leave the motel at night, and they would train every morning. And maybe when John got back, Sam would stop hating him so much. "I'll tell the boys you say 'hi'."

John called his sons down from the top of the hill and handed each of them a bottle of water. When they'd regained their breath, he had them spar, practicing their holds and defensive moves. He'd taught them what he could remember from his high school wrestling days and some moves he'd picked up in the Marines.

It didn't take long to see that Sam wasn't holding back. He looked like he really wanted to hurt his brother. Dean, being older, heavier, and more experienced, was able to deflect or side-step most of the blows. But Sam was fueled by anger and if he had a few more years, he'd be able to best Dean. John silently prayed that it would never come to that.

* * *

_Next up _**Chapter 19: Sam** Time to air out some dirty laundry.

**A/N: **Love it? Hate it? Let me know by leaving a review!


	19. Chapter 19: Sam

**A/N:** _This chapter was inspired by a reviewer who loved the "Winchester moments"._ Thanks to all of you who have followed and favorited. Cookies to those who left a review; you fill my heart with warm fuzzies. And extra special thanks to my beta readers, Katrina and isugirl.

**Warning: **Rated T for language.

**Disclaimer: **Buffyverse owned by Joss Whedon. Supernatural owned by Eric Kripke.

* * *

**Chapter Nineteen: Sam**

As glad as Sam was that Dad was going to be gone for a few days, it was almost worth the tension and fighting just so he didn't have to be alone in the same room as Dean. But the hunt always came first with Dad. Not that he would have noticed how his sons felt, or would have done anything about it even if he did. So Sam shoved his duffel bag full of laundry into the backseat of the Impala and got in, slamming the door shut in a deliberate attempt to piss off his brother.

"Hey, watch it," Dean said. He stroked the dashboard gently. "He didn't hurt you, baby, did he?"

"You're an ass." Sam settled further into his seat as Dean started the car and headed for the laundromat. He knew he was sulking, but he didn't care. He was tired from researching all night without any results to show for it. While Dean had spent the night with Buffy.

"Okay." Aside from a small frown, his brother didn't seem to be fazed by the insult.

"Why do you have to ruin everything?" It was Dean's fault that Dad had grounded them, his fault for abiding by Dad's rules, even though he never followed anyone else's, his fault for sleeping with Buffy. How could he _do_ that? He knew how Sam felt about her. And then he talked about her to Dad like she was nothing special. "Why do you have to be such a jerk?"

"I guess it's a gift," he said, shrugging this time.

"I hate you." There, he'd done it. It was the worst insult he could fling at his brother, other than maybe talking about Mom, but he wasn't suicidal.

"Wow. It's only been a couple of months since the last time you said that." And now Dean was smirking. "I must have done something really terrible to get on your shit list this time."

"Why didn't you let me tell Dad that they're hunters?" said Sam, settling on something that he could justifiably blame Dean for ruining.

"Ah, we're getting warmer," Dean said, flashing a smile and giving a slight shake of his head. "If I told Dad that there were hunters here in Sunnydale, what's the first thing he'd do?"

"Call Bobby to find out who they were." Sam sighed; he could tell where this conversation was going, and it wasn't anywhere good.

"If Bobby's heard about any hunting out here, then it'll probably lead back to Buffy and her being a Slayer, which she doesn't want Dad to know." Bobby had connections to almost every hunter in the States and even some beyond. He'd also read every book in his house, including the hunter's journal. So it was a safe bet that he would put two and two together and get "Slayer". But Dean wasn't done with his lesson in hunter logic. "So what if Bobby hasn't heard about anyone out here?"

"Dad would want to meet the hunters," Sam said, grudgingly, "and he'd find out that they're teenagers anyways."

"Yahtzee."

Dean pulled into a spot in a small strip mall and grabbed his bag from the back seat. Sam grabbed his own duffel and followed his brother through the door. The laundromat was mostly empty; there was a girl who looked like she'd just arrived and a couple folding clothes with another load in the dryer. Dean bought a couple boxes of detergent from the vending machines and set up their stuff on the far side of the room.

"Now that that's outta the way," Dean said, dumping his clothes haphazardly into the washer, "you wanna talk about the other bug that crawled up your ass?"

"No." Sam was pretty sure he knew what his brother was implying and didn't want to hear anything he had to say about Buffy.

He sorted his clothes, putting his jeans in one machine and everything else in another. He used to separate his whites, but it was pointless without bleach. Especially since Dean would throw his clothes into Sam's machine when he couldn't shove any more in his own. Like he was doing now.

"That's good." Dean raised an eyebrow as if he wasn't convinced with his brother's answer. And he probably wasn't. "'Cause I don't like to kiss-and-tell."

"Dean," said Sam, rolling his eyes, "I know that Maria Sandoval has an egg-shaped birthmark on her inner thigh, and I've never even met the girl. You do nothing _but_ talk about the girls you've slept with."

"Well, I'm not talking about this one." He sat down on one of the chairs bolted to the floor, across from their bank of washers. Picking up a magazine that looked like it was several months old, he attempted to shut his younger brother out.

But Sam didn't want to be dismissed. Dean had already said too much, he might as well finish. "You mean because she's so insignificant, she's not worth talking about? Is that why you wanted Dad to think she was a whore?"

The edges of the magazine crumpled in Dean's fists. "It's the only thing I could think of that Dad wouldn't look at too closely," he said. He peered at his brother over the pages. "You know how hard it is for me to lie to him? To his face?"

"So you don't think about her that way?" He glared at his brother. Dean wasn't so crude that he would rate the women that he slept with, but his post-coital recaps didn't include much beyond her appearance and performance, with extra points awarded for innovation.

"Hell no!" said Dean, tossing the magazine aside.

Sam allowed a little flash of hope creep inside him. Maybe Dad had jumped to the wrong conclusion. Buffy and Dean were probably out late hunting for Spike or some other demons. "So you didn't sleep together?"

"I didn't say that." The little spark in Sam's chest died, and he felt that awful gnawing in his stomach start again. Dean rubbed his hand over his face and started again. "Sammy, I know you like her—"

"'Like' her?" he said. If that were all this was, he wouldn't feel as though a ghoul was chewing on his innards while he was still alive. "I 'liked' Amy Pond and Katy Wells. The way I feel about Buffy is more than that."

"Alright, bad choice of words." Dean took a deep breath and stood up, struggling to find a better way of explaining things. Sam wondered why he even bothered. Nothing he said could make it better. "You – feel – something for her. I get that. But I feel something for her, too."

Sam wasn't sure he'd heard his brother correctly. Dean Winchester, the guy who refused to acknowledge that _Ghost_ was a love story instead of a vengeance seeking ghost who sent his killer back to hell, was admitting to having _feelings_ for a girl. "Are you saying you're in love with her?"

"What? No." His denial came quickly and loudly, loud enough for the blond girl on the other side of the room to look up. Dean smiled and waved at her before turning to Sam and angrily whispering, "Why would you say something like that?"

"She's not just some girl, Dean. She's the Slayer." Maybe Dean didn't understand because he didn't know the Slayer lore. He hadn't read and researched it the way Sam had. He didn't know her the way Sam knew her. "You can't use her and toss her aside the way you do every other girl."

"I never said I would," said Dean, defensively. He ran a hand through his hair. "Look, Sam, I know that Buffy's way outta my league—"

"That's for sure."

"—and you're right, she's not like any other girl." Dean paused, a smile starting to form on his face. When he looked into Sam's eyes, though, there were traces of doubt and fear mixed in with his other emotions. "But I do like her, and I wanna keep seeing her."

"Really?"

"Really." His brother let out a shaky breath. "It's kinda scaring the shit out of me, to be honest."

Sam couldn't help smiling. His brother had stared down werewolves, wendigos, poltergeists, and all manner of supernatural beings and never failed to have a snappy comeback. Faced with a moment straight out of a chick flick movie, he was practically shaking in his steel-toed boots. "You mean the fact that you actually want to have a second date with a girl? Or the fact that she's Buffy?"

"Both, I guess," Dean said, quietly. He stood there for a little while, lost in his thoughts.

Sam wasn't sure how to feel about Buffy and his brother, or about them being together. It was painful to think about her. But he did know that his brother had never considered having a relationship with a girl before. Maybe doing so now was a good thing.

Dean glanced over and caught his brother staring at him. His eyes narrowed, and he said, "But you can't tell her. I swear to God, I will shove my foot so far up your ass you'll be tasting my sock for a week if you breathe a word of this to anyone."

"Oh yeah?" Sam said, arching his eyebrow. He waved to the girl across the room, the only other person left in the laundromat. "Hey."

"H-h-hi," said the girl. She looked as if she'd much rather disappear into the floor than have anyone pay attention to her, but she seemed nice enough with her lank blond hair and wide eyes.

"My brother's falling in love with a girl named Buffy."

"Th-th-that's nice." Her smile was shy, like the rest of her, but it was honest and bright. There was an earthiness about her that Sam found appealing. "I h-h-hope she loves him b-back."

Sam grinned and turned back to his brother. Dean didn't seem very amused by the exchange. His glare underscored his words as he said, "You're a little bitch, you know that?"

"Wow," Sam said, as unaffected by the threat as his brother had been earlier in the car, "that insult surprisingly doesn't taste like your sock, so I guess that means you're full of shit."

"Oh, yeah?" The washer dinged, alerting them that the clothes were done. A sadistic smile spread on Dean's lips as he lifted the lid and pulled out a white ball of cotton. "I got a sock right here with your name on it."

Sam took off running. There was no doubt that Dean would catch him. The laundromat was small, and the aisles were short. But he did his best to bob and weave through the machines until his brother tackled him, both of them laughing as Sam tried to fend of the wet sock. Finally, Dean let up his torment and helped his brother off the floor. They murmured apologies to the girl, who simply shook her head and smiled, and went back to finish their laundry.

"You should call Buffy," said Sam, stuffing his clothes in a dryer.

"Maybe after we're done here." It was probably the closest Dean was going to get in the way of commitment. But it was closer than he'd gotten before. "So, how'd it go last night? I'm guessing you didn't find much?"

"Xander didn't have any books at his place, although Willow brought her laptop. Couldn't find much online. But she's got some mad hacking skills." Dean's face twisted into a confused look. "It means that she can look up locked files, like police and vehicle records, stuff that isn't available to the public."

His confusion quickly morphed into opportunistic interest. "Think she can hook us up with some free porn?"

"If _I_ had a laptop, she probably could. _And_ we would have access to a computer on the weekends and times when the library's closed."

"Alright, alright, I get it," said Dean, rolling his eyes at the unsubtle hints. "I'll see if I can talk Dad into buying one, but you know the max limit on new credit cards is pretty low. And laptops are expensive." He chewed on his lip for a bit, musing over an idea. Sam had a bad feeling he knew what that idea probably entailed. "How about this? You learn to hustle pool with me and everything you earn, we put towards that computer. Deal?"

"I hate stealing people's money." Hustling pool, playing poker, and running credit card scams was something drifters and cons did. Not that Sam thought they should charge for saving people, but there had to be a way to make money on the right side of the law. "Why can't I work odd jobs around the neighborhood or something like that?"

"Sam, we live in a motel. Our 'neighborhood' is a diner and a couple of office buildings." Dean flashed him a sad smile. Sam always wondered if growing up in a home those first few years made his brother miss it more. He'd actually lost it while Sam yearned for something he'd never had in the first place. But Dean had adapted to this life. More than adapted, he thrived. "Besides, you're not stealing it; you're earning it."

"Fine," said Sam with a sigh. "Oh, you missed it; Xander had a visitor last night."

"What kind of visitor?" Dean asked, suspicious and alert.

"A girl named Anya." At Sam's words, the tension melted from his brother, and he went back to being merely interested. "I guess she didn't realize that Willow and I were there, and she came over to, um..."

"No shit. Xander, you dog." His lips curved in a sardonic grin, admiring his friend's good fortune. "What'd she do?"

"She stripped. And then she realized that we were there, but she kept walking around naked."

"Sammy had his first peep show? Way to go!" Dean clapped his brother on the back as if he'd done a good job instead of sit there with his mouth wide open.

"Willow covered my eyes when she realized what was going on."

Dean chuckled, no doubt amused at the idea of the little redhead protecting Sammy's virgin eyes. "So was she hot?"

"She was pretty, I guess." _Nowhere near as pretty as Buffy_, he wanted to add, but that wasn't a topic he was ready to discuss. "Especially for someone who used to be a demon."

"Used to be a what?" asked Dean, his face frozen.

"Apparently, Xander tends to attract female demons." They were alone in the laundromat now, so Sam didn't worry about anyone overhearing their discussion. "Willow ran through the list last night, it was pretty fun—"

"Xander's dating a demon?" Dean was surprisingly calm. Sam had expected him to blow up and start yelling about how demons are bad and he never should have trusted Buffy's friends.

"No, she _used_ to be a demon," he said, correcting his brother. "Of the vengeance variety. Something about granting wishes to scorned women. But not anymore."

"And they haven't ganked her yet?"

"She's not doing anything evil, not hurting anyone, so why would they kill her?"

"Because she's a demon," said Dean, angrily throwing his hands in the air. Before Sam could correct him again, he quickly amended his words. "Or used to be a demon, whatever. Isn't that part of the job description of a Slayer? Hunting demons?"

This was the reaction Sam had expected. But he was glad since it gave him the opportunity to talk about something that had been on his mind for a while. "Did you ever think that maybe not all demons are bad?"

"No." The answer was quick and decisive. He didn't think; he followed orders - Dad's orders - and never questioned them. "Have you?"

He _had_ thought about it. A lot. Because a creature – no, a girl – had saved his life last year, and he'd repaid the favor by helping her escape his brother and father. But he couldn't draw attention to her, so instead, he said, "What about werewolves, for instance?"

"You mean the things that can rip open a grown man's rib cage and tear out his heart? The thing that we hunted a couple summers ago?"

It had been Sam's first time tracking a werewolf with them. The creatures were skilled and dangerous, combining the ingenuity of a man with the instincts of a wolf. And if they weren't caught during the full moon, then it would be another month of watching and waiting. Not that Sam minded staying in one town for more than a month.

"That _thing_ we hunted was a person most of the time," said Sam. "He might have had a family or friends. He might not even have known that he was a werewolf."

"And that makes it okay that he was eating human hearts?" Dean raised an eyebrow. Maybe werewolves were a bad place to start.

"I didn't say that." Sam took a deep breath and tried to think of another way to approach the argument, another way to make his brother see reason. "I just meant that maybe if he knew, maybe if he had a choice, he would choose not to hurt people."

"And how would he do that?" Dean never questioned Dad, but he certainly didn't have a problem doing it to Sam.

"I dunno." Sam shrugged. He didn't have the answers. That was the whole point of talking it over. "Lock himself up?"

"What if he escapes?" said Dean, dismissing the suggestion off-hand. "Then someone dies. He may not want to hurt people, but, eventually, he will."

Sam should have known better. When it came down to it, this would always be Dean's answer to questions about the ethics and morality of hunting. Because saving other people's lives was the only thing that kept him from admitting how absolutely shitty and fucked up their own lives were.

"What if I got bit?" Sam asked. It was dangerous territory, but he'd always wondered how far Dean would go to follow their dad's obsession. "What if I turned into one of them? Would you hunt me?"

His brother stared at him, long and hard, ignoring the timer on the machine. "We never have to worry about that because it's never going to happen."

"I'm serious, Dean."

"So am I," he said, gruffly. He stalked over to the dryer and started hauling his clothes out, stuffing them into his duffel bag. "Now can we stop talking about it and get out of here?"

"Yeah, sure." Sam started filling his own bag, deciding not to push his brother any more. He knew _he_ couldn't pull the trigger. Their lives were bleak enough, and all they had was each other. He couldn't – wouldn't – imagine a world without Dean in it.

* * *

_Next up _**Chapter 20: Buffy** Giles has some answers, but what Buffy really wants to know is whether Dean will call or not.

**A/N: **Love it? Hate it? Let me know by leaving a review!


	20. Chapter 20: Buffy

**A/N:** Thanks to all of you who have followed and favorited. Cookies to those who left a review; you fill my heart with warm fuzzies. And extra special thanks to my beta readers, Katrina and isugirl.

**Warning: **Rated T for language.

**Disclaimer: **Buffyverse owned by Joss Whedon. Supernatural owned by Eric Kripke.

* * *

**Chapter Twenty: Buffy**

"—And tell Anya to stop corrupting minors," Buffy said, getting out of the passenger seat of Xander's car. Willow was already out of the back and waiting on the sidewalk, but Buffy couldn't help getting in one last jab at her friend's expense.

"Haha, Buffy, very funny." He looked like he wanted to say more, but she couldn't tell what with the door closing in his face. It was all in fun, though, and the dirty look he shot her transformed into a grin before he drove away.

"So?" asked Willow as they walked back to their dorm.

"So..."

"It happened. Right?" Willow clutched Buffy's arm, squeezing it in excitement. "Did it happen? With Dean?"

"Yeah, it happened." Buffy ducked her head shyly, but couldn't help smiling. Confessing it to her best friend somehow made her night with Dean seem more real.

"And?" Willow skipped ahead to the door, barring entrance into the building. "Details? I mean, not _details_, don't need a diagram, but maybe, like, a blurry watercolor?"

"It was nice," Buffy said, waiting for her friend to move. Willow stood her ground, continuing to stare at her expectantly. "_Really_ nice. He made me breakfast and everything. And he's gonna call."

"I love this part," said Willow, stepping aside and opening the door. She let out a breathy sigh and clutched her hands to her heart. "Don't you love this part? Where it's all new and everything's a discovery?"

"I don't know." Discovering that one night of happiness turned Angel into his vampire counterpart Angelus had not been a welcome experience. But last night with Dean had led to some very interesting, and pleasant, surprises. Even their conversation this morning, as difficult as it had been, put a smile on her face. "Yeah, I guess I do."

They climbed the stairs to the second floor and made their way to the room. Before they could get to the door, however, they were stopped by the sight of Giles anxiously pacing the hallway. His tweed coat and stuffy British demeanor seemed at odds with the pajama-clad residents shuffling past him.

"Buffy, where have you been?" he said, catching sight of them. "I've left you several messages."

"Sorry, Giles," said Buffy, opening up the door to her room, "we were having a research party. At Xander's house. All Saturday night." Giles had pulled off his glasses and was giving her a look that either meant disappointment or disapproval. "Uh, you know what. I'm an adult now and it's none of your business what I do."

"I'm sincerely relieved to hear that," he said, putting his glasses back on. Apparently, it had been his look of indifference. "Now can we discuss the impending disaster?"

"Ooh, Giles found something." Willow took the small stack of old, leather-bound books from his hands.

"Yes, here it is," he said, picking up the top book and flipping it open to a bookmarked page. "There was a great deal of vampyric interest in locating the gem during the 10th century. Questing vampires combed the earth, but no one found it. It was concluded that it never existed."

"Well Spike seems to think it exists," said Buffy. Although Spike was impetuous and foolhardy, with emphasis on the "fool", he wouldn't risk coming back without a good reason. "And he's looking in Sunnydale."

"I dug a little further," Giles continued, pulling another book from Willow's hands, "and found a text that refers to the Gem of Amarra residing in the 'valley of the sun'."

"Demon fancy-talk for Sunnydale," said Willow, a worried frown crossing her face.

"It seems Spike may know what he's about. The gem may exist after all in a sealed underground crypt." Giles removed his glasses again, absent-mindedly resting the earpiece against his lips as he mused over this latest bit. "I don't see how something that valuable, if it is real, could remain hidden on a Hellmouth, with all its demonic activity. I could probably even track the development of the myth..."

"Giles, focus," Buffy said, bringing his attention back to the glasses-wearing present. She really needed to find him a hobby of the non-academic kind. Unemployed Giles was getting a little too bored with all this time off. "You guys find that crypt. I'll see if I can track down Spike, stop him before he gets there."

"I'll get started." He headed for the door, no doubt anxious to delve back into his books.

"I'll call Xander and Oz, meet you at your place," said Willow, stopping Giles before he could leave. She handed him back the stack of books before turning to her roommate, a pointed look on her face. "Buffy, do you think 'you know who' might want to help out?"

Buffy rolled her eyes at Willow's prodding, but it was as good excuse as any to meet up with Sam and Dean again. "Giles, we, um, met a couple of hunters the other night. Demon hunters. Maybe they could lend us a hand?"

"After your previous encounters with hunters, I'd expect them to be the last people you'd want to work with." Giles' reminder was totally unnecessary. She wasn't likely to forget Cain, the hunter who'd tried to take out Oz while he was in werewolf form, or Jungle Bob, the hunter who'd tried to take _her_ down last year to win the SlayerFest contest organized by the vampire Mr. Trick.

Still, not all hunters they'd met had been bad. There had been Sid, the hunter who'd been cursed into the form of a talking dummy. The wooden kind, as opposed to the blond vampire kind – either of them. Despite the barrage of innuendo and sexist remarks, which seemed to be the norm amongst hunters, he'd been a good person with a good heart. Or whatever was left of the hunter he'd been before being cursed.

"Well, these guys are different," she said.

"So they aren't the type to shoot first and not even bother asking questions?" Okay, so Giles sorta had a point. Although Sam seemed the type to watch and wait, Dean was gung-ho with the guns and seemed disappointed when she didn't try to pursue Spike and Harmony last night. But he'd followed her lead and let them go, which put him on the side of good in her books. "I suspect this has something to do with your – what did you call it – 'Saturday night research party'?"

Giles was staring at her again, and it was definitely the disapproval look this time. In spite of her earlier bravado about being an adult and her after-Slayer activities being none of his business, she still cringed at the idea of disappointing him. He'd become much more than her Watcher, just as she'd become much more than his Slayer. _She_ was the reason he'd been fired from the Watchers Council and was currently unemployed. He'd cared about her too much to let her face a criminally insane vampire alone in her weakened, human state, failing their ridiculous test by placing his allegiance with her instead of The Council.

But it was more than allegiance that kept him in Sunnydale, just as his concern for her extended far beyond her capabilities as the Slayer. And she'd repaid him with blatant lies and flippant remarks. Hanging her head in shame, she started to apologize, but he quickly cut her off.

"Very well," he said, emphasizing his words with a dramatic sigh. "If you believe that they will be useful, they can come along."

"Thanks, Giles. You're the best." She threw her arms around him in an enthusiastic hug. He stiffened in surprise before briefly hugging her back. A few moments later, he extricated himself from the embrace and left the room, his Englishman's decorum only slightly flustered.

As soon as he was out the door, Willow jumped onto Buffy's bed, ready to dish some more about last night. "So, are you gonna call him?"

"I was thinking about waiting to see if he called me," said Buffy, hesitantly. She sat down, cross-legged, beside her friend. "I don't want to seem pushy. Or eager."

"But I thought you said it was nice?"

"It was. Very." Buffy closed her eyes, reliving the moment she'd opened up to him, exposing her weakness. And his honest response to it. Everything afterwards had been wonderful, but that moment had changed her. "In fact, it was amazing. And that's kinda what scares me."

"What's so scary about it?" asked Willow. Her brows drew together as she studied her friend. It didn't take her long to diagnose the symptoms, and her eyes widened at the realization. "Oh... Oh! Buffy, you're doing it. You're having feelings for someone other than Angel. That's – that's a good thing!"

"Except that I caught myself thinking about how _not_ like Angel he is." Buffy collapsed back, resting against the headboard. She'd tried so hard to get Angel out of her mind, but now he was all she could think about. A horrible thought crossed her mind, and she popped back up. "What if this is one of those things, you know? Like, hey, look at me with someone who isn't Angel. Look how much I'm not hung up on Angel anymore. Look how this is not _all_ about Angel."

Willow considered her for a moment, tucking the corner of her mouth into her cheek. "Well, did you think about Angel when you and Dean were... you know?"

"You mean the times when I could actually string two thoughts together?" said Buffy, the words pouring from her mouth before she could stop them. It didn't make them any less true. She smiled as the impact of that made its way to her brain. "No. No, last night was just Dean. Me and Dean. It was the talking part, or the not talking when we're supposed to be talking part. Which I guess is really like Angel in that he doesn't want to tell me anything about himself."

"You do like 'em broody and mysterious, don't you, Buff," Willow said, a half-hearted smile on her lips.

Buffy groaned and buried her face in her hands. "Why can't I like Xander back? It would be so nice and simple, with the jokes and the not having a tragic backstory. Never a question of whether he'd be there when I needed him or how he would end up hurting me."

"Because the heart wants what the heart wants." Willow stroked her friend's hair, in reassurance as well as commiseration.

"You're right." Buffy took a deep breath and slowly let it out. After a few moments, she peered at her friend from behind her hands. "You won't tell him I almost gave in, will you?"

"As much as he'd love to go out with you, Buffy, I think he'd still balk at the idea of you 'settling' for him. That's like calling him a booby prize." She chuckled a little, no doubt imagining Xander's reaction to the phrase. "Even though he does love boobies."

They were both well aware of Xander's unrequited crush. But Buffy had decided long ago to close the door to that possibility, for his sake and for Willow's. Even though Willow had finally put out the torch she'd held for Xander since kindergarten, Buffy knew that dating him would still strain things between them all. And their friendship was too precious for her to risk. Especially considering her track record with relationships.

"Xander deserves to be treated as more than a consolation prize," said Buffy. "Plus I don't want to fight off Anya for him. I'm sure she's picked up a few tricks during her thousand years of vengeance."

When their laughter faded away, Buffy couldn't stop her eyes from wandering to the phone. It had only been a couple of hours since Dean had dropped her off at Xander's, so it was still too soon for him to call. But he promised he would. She just wished she knew the protocol for something like this. Wasn't there some sort of three-day rule? Or did that only apply to dates that didn't end in sex? Was going to a frat party to chase down a vampire considered a date?

Willow followed her friend's line of sight and, no doubt, her train of thought. With an encouraging smile, she said, "He'll call, Buffy. I'm sure of it."

Buffy flashed her a weak smile in return, hoping that her friend was right.

* * *

"Dean said that they were drawn here by general Hellmouthiness," Buffy said to Oz. "But I leave it to you to tell them or not. They may have hunted werewolves before. I'd say it's more than likely."

After freshening up and relaxing for a few, Willow had called up her boyfriend and asked him to pick them up so they could go to Giles' place. But Buffy wanted to hang out for a few more minutes, hoping that Dean would call. Filling Oz in on the hunters' reasons for being in Sunnydale seemed a good way to pass the time.

"Think I'll keep it on the down low for now," he said, a thoughtful expression on his face. Or maybe he wasn't concerned at all; his expressions all seemed about the same. He was usually unfazed by even the weirdest of weird and was more unflappable than Giles. It seemed almost fitting that Willow, currently engrossed in a book on witchcraft, was the total opposite. "But thanks, Buff."

"Not a problem." She looked down at her watch. It was almost three in the afternoon and Dean still hadn't called. "Hey, Oz, you're a man?"

"I've got the anatomy," he said, raising an eyebrow, "but who's to say what constitutes a man?"

"I mean, how long should a girl wait for a guy to call?"

"I guess that depends on the girl." He gave her another impassive, unreadable look. "And the guy."

She liked Oz, she really did. But sometimes his cryptic responses were very, very frustrating. "Does it make me look desperate if I call him first?"

The phone rang, saving them both from an uncomfortable conversation. Willow popped her head up from the book, a hopeful smile on her face. Buffy rushed to grab the receiver, fumbling with it in her haste.

"Hello."

"Hey, Buffy." The sound of Dean's low voice soothed her fears. "Miss me yet?"

"Maybe," she said, trying to sound coy. She turned to see Willow tugging Oz towards the door. Willow gave her a thumbs-up and signaled that they'd wait for her downstairs. Buffy nodded, turning her attention back to the phone. "How did things go with your Dad?"

"Not as horrible as it could have been, but Sam and I have to be back at the motel by nightfall."

"Oh, I was hoping..." She let her words trail off because she felt a little ashamed to say it aloud. Not that she didn't like hanging out with Sammy, she just wanted to spend more time enjoying the new, discovery phase with Dean. Alone.

"We still have a few hours until sundown," he said, his voice a little huskier than it had been before. "I'm sure we can figure something out."

"Actually, we got a lead on the gem. The gang is all heading over to Giles' apartment to do more research on the crypt where it's supposedly buried, and I'm supposed to look for Spike's hideout."

"Oh." She wasn't sure, but he sounded a little disappointed. "You're right. Slayer duties gotta come first. If you're not too tired afterwards, maybe you could... Never mind. It's a stupid idea."

_I really do deserve an 'F' in communication_, Buffy thought to herself. But she couldn't help smiling at the reason for his disappointment. "Like you said, we've still got some time before sunset. Why don't you guys meet me at Giles' place? Sam will love it. His apartment is full of old books and things. Then, you and I can go around town; try to find Spike's lair. We can swing back around to Giles' before it gets dark and pick up Sam."

"Um, yeah. Yeah, that works for me."

Buffy held back a giggle at his tepid response. Now that she knew that he was just as anxious to see her, she couldn't resist teasing him a little. "If you've got other plans, I don't want to interfere."

"Me? Nah," he said. "Although I think your plan could do with some improvement."

"Oh really?"

"Well, where in that scenario do I get to have quality naked-Buffy time?"

"Dean!" Her cry of protest was more from a sense of modesty than anything else because she'd secretly been wondering the same thing.

"It's a valid question."

She couldn't hold in her fit of giggles any more. But the longer she sat here talking to him, the less she'd actually be able to see him. And Willow was waiting downstairs with Oz. Which gave her an idea. "I guess Xander or Oz could drive Sammy back to the motel."

"I'm liking this new plan."

* * *

_Next up _**Chapter 21: Dean** Hunting, hooking-up, and hanging out. What better way to spend what's left of the day on the Hellmouth?

**A/N: **Love it? Hate it? Let me know by leaving a review!


	21. Chapter 21: Dean

**A/N:** Thanks to all of you who have followed and favorited. Cookies to those who left a review; you fill my heart with warm fuzzies. And extra special thanks to my beta readers, Katrina and isugirl.

**Warning: **Rated T for language and some sexual content. Smuttier version available at Twisting the Hellmouth.

**Disclaimer: **Buffyverse owned by Joss Whedon. Supernatural owned by Eric Kripke.

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-One: Dean**

Dean leaned against the porch railing as he waited for Buffy to finish saying goodbye to Mr. and Mrs. Kendall. Visiting Harmony's parents had been as unsuccessful as going to the dilapidated, half-burned down factory, but not nearly as hazardous. For him at least. Buffy, on the other hand, knew Harmony from high school and had to field dozens of questions about her former classmates, most of whom she didn't seem to know very well. But she'd tactfully turned the conversation to a mutual acquaintance, some girl named Cordelia. A wannabe actress living in Los Angeles didn't seem like the type of person Buffy would keep in touch with, but it let her direct the topic back to the Kendalls' daughter and whether they'd seen her since the graduation.

Turns out they hadn't had any contact with Harmony until a couple of weeks ago. She'd shown up after dark to collect her things, claiming that she'd changed over the summer, grown up and become independent. In fact, she was living in a posh new place with her new boyfriend. Dean's ears had perked up at this, but they didn't know who he was or where he lived. They only knew that she called him "Blondie Bear". Despite Harmony's disregard for her parents, they seemed to genuinely care about their daughter and worried about her.

"I'll tell her to call if I see her again," Buffy said, trying to extricate herself from Mrs. Kendall's hug.

"You tell her that she's always welcome to come home, no matter what." Mrs. Kendall wiped another tear from her eye before waving goodbye.

"Should we tell her that an open invitation to her daughter is like signing her own death certificate?" muttered Dean as he opened the car door for Buffy.

"I honestly don't see how someone as shallow and self-absorbed as Harmony could have parents so sweet," she said, ignoring his remark. She looked back up the path to Mrs. Kendall, who was still waving from the door. A sad smile formed on her lips, and Dean felt something tug at his core. He wanted to do something to wipe the sadness from her face, but they had a job. And Dad always said that the job came first.

Besides, once they staked Harmony and Spike, they'd have plenty of time for fun. So the sooner they finished the job, the better, because Dean was really looking forward to naked, sexy, fun time with Buffy. He started the car and pulled away from the curb. "Where to next?"

"Well, Harmony's hangouts were the mall, friends, and The Bronze. That won't be open until tonight, most of her friends have moved away and weren't really her friends anyways. More like mindless drones." Buffy's smile suddenly brightened as she considered the third option. "But I wouldn't object to searching for her at the mall."

Dean knew she was teasing, but he still felt a little stab of pain. It was another reminder of how different their lives were. He picked up his clothes from thrift stores or church bins, not wanting to spend money on something that was going to get torn, blood-stained, or ripped to shreds. And she was the kind of girl that bought clothes from the mall, who had her own bedroom in a home where her mom cooked dinner and did laundry and hadn't been burnt to a crisp by some demon in the middle of the night.

"Okay, okay, no mall," Buffy said, mistaking his silence for a distaste in shopping. "Spike's old factory was a dud and the only other place I know he stayed at was..."

He waited for her to finish, but the silence continued. A quick glance showed that she was biting her lower lip again, which meant that she was worried about something. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." She flashed him a tight smile as she fed him a lie.

He tried to squash the anger that flared up inside of him. It wasn't like he'd been completely honest with her either. This morning, she'd asked him questions that normal people would ask in normal conversations, trying to get to know him better. And he wanted her to know him. He just wasn't prepared to share some of those answers. Not yet, anyways.

So being angry with her for withholding information was irrational. Then again, he'd never been accused of being a very rational person. "Nothing, huh?"

She avoided his gaze, looking down at her jeans and picking off invisible bits of lint as she answered. "He holed up in a mansion for a little while a couple of years ago, but I doubt he'd want to go back there."

"A mansion seems like nice digs to pass the time, and Harmony's parents said she mentioned staying at a posh place," said Dean. "Why wouldn't he go back?"

"It's got some bad memories for him." He snorted, rather loudly, in disbelief that a vampire would have an emotional attachment to a place. She glared at him, saying, "Would you want to go back to the place where your girlfriend was getting screwed by another man?"

Dean had never felt the need to claim ownership over a girl. Yeah, there had been girls who called themselves his girlfriend, and he'd let them believe it while it suited his needs. But he didn't really care what or who they did after he'd been with them. The only people that mattered were family. Even then, Dad was always preoccupied with the job, either this hunt or the next, and Dean had no rights to his time or attention. The only person who really belonged to him was Sammy.

Still, the idea of Buffy being with someone else twisted him up inside. He knew she deserved someone better than him, someone who could afford to take her shopping at the mall, who wasn't so guarded about his life, who wasn't so... damaged. But there was the part of him that believed no one else could understand her the way he did. And there was another, very selfish, part of him that didn't care that she could do better, he wanted her for himself.

"Nah, I guess I wouldn't." He glanced at her, hoping she couldn't tell that his words were about her. There was no need to worry, though, because she was staring out the window, lost in her own thoughts. Although he should be glad she hadn't seen how much she was starting to mean to him, he was irritated. "How much daylight we got left?"

Buffy turned her head, gauging the sun's position in the sky. "About an hour and a half, I'm guessing. I have to say, having a car makes investigating hideouts go much faster."

"I thought nobody walked in L.A.," said Dean, glad to have her focused on him again. Even if it made him do stupid things like tell lame jokes that referenced lame songs.

"Sunnydale is not L.A.," Buffy said with a sigh. "Besides, Buffy and cars don't get along so much. Kinda like Buffy and guns."

"Stick with me, babe, and I'll teach you how to use both." An image of Buffy handling his Taurus 9mm popped into his head, her small hands wrapped around the pearl inset grip while she fired off a round. Oh yeah, he was definitely taking her out shooting.

"You'd let me drive your car?"

"I said I'd teach you how to drive _a _car," said Dean, carefully rephrasing his offer. Not even Sam was allowed to drive his baby. He'd taught his brother to drive using a mix of junkers from Bobby's yard and boosted cars, but he had a feeling Buffy wouldn't be comfortable using a stolen vehicle. "How 'bout we let you practice on Xander's first before you graduate to the Impala?"

"Deal." She slid across the bench seat, sealing their pact with a kiss on his cheek. "So what can I teach you in return?"

Dean draped his arm across her shoulders, a smile creeping across his face as she tucked herself against him. "I dunno. What are you good at?"

"Pole-arms," said Buffy, shrugging her shoulders. "Using a crossbow. Dual-wielding axes?"

"How about something not hunting related?" he teased. When she didn't reply, he looked down to see her twisting the hem of her jacket. He pulled over, parking the car on a random street, and turned to her, gently lifting her chin with his fingers. "Buffy, you're more than just a Slayer."

Dean looked into her eyes and could see that she didn't believe him. Slaying was in Buffy's blood; it was a part of her. Although he'd been exposed to the supernatural when he was four and been immersed in the life of a hunter ever since, he knew it was a choice. Not that he'd ever consider it, but he had the option to leave. From what Sam had told him, the only time Buffy could stop being the Slayer was when she died. And that wasn't something he wanted to think about.

"What'd you do before you became all Chosen?" asked Dean.

"I used to be an airhead, cheerleader type," she said, rolling her eyes.

His gaze roved down her body, lips curving until he was leering at her. "You still have the uniform?"

"Dean!" She tried to look offended, but burst into laughter.

"Hey, I got fantasies. You'd look damn hot in a short skirt waving around your pom-poms." He took another minute to enjoy the mental picture, deciding that was another image he planned on making a reality. Before he could fully appreciate the things Buffy was doing in his imagination, the real one beside him smacked him in the shoulder. "Fine, anything else you're good at?"

She pursed her lips as she considered her life outside of slaying. After a few moments, her eyes brightened. She asked, "Oh, do you know how to ice skate?"

"I do not," he said, his mouth twisting into a grimace. He wasn't particularly graceful and preferred feeling the ground beneath his feet rather than a thin blade of metal or a set of wheels. "I'm kinda bow-legged, so I was always afraid I'd fall on my ass a lot."

"Well, then, I'll have to help you stay on your feet." She laid her hand on his cheek, kissing him softly on his lips. "Thank you."

"What for?"

She smiled and said, "For being you."

"I usually get called a jerk for being me," he said, raising an eyebrow.

Her head tilted to the side, as if examining him from a different angle gave her better insight into him. "I don't think a lot of people get to see the real you."

_Maybe you just bring out the best in me_, he thought, afraid to say it aloud. He pulled her tightly against him, resting his chin on top of her head. The scent of her golden strands wafted into his nostrils, reminding him of a warm day in mid-July when Dad had taken them to a beach in South Carolina. He'd helped little four-year-old Sammy build a sandcastle and found a bit of sea glass the same bright blue as Mom's eyes. They'd camped on the beach that night, a large bonfire keeping them safe and warm under the stars.

Dean had spent most of his life looking forward, always keeping a wary eye on the world and a watchful one over Sammy, preparing himself for unknown dangers. If he looked back, it was with pain and regret over his mother's death, the times he'd screwed up and disappointed Dad, the times he'd failed to keep his little brother safe. But over the past few days, he found himself recalling more of the good memories and it had everything to do with the girl beside him.

"How 'bout we call it a day on the search and head back to the motel?" he said, releasing her from his arms. "I think I'm ready for my naked-Buffy time."

She looked up at him with that little half-smile on her lips. "I think I like your new plan."

* * *

"Well, here it is," said Dean, nervously opening the door. "Home, sweet motel room."

He usually didn't care what girls thought of his living arrangements. They were usually here for one purpose, and that was to get out of their clothes and into his bed before he had to kick them out so he could pick up Sammy from the library or the movies. Even though Buffy was here for roughly the same reason, it felt a lot different bringing her here.

"Your room's bigger than..." Buffy trailed off as her gaze drifted over the discarded food wrappers and paper cups, which Dean was hastily sweeping into the trash, and landed on the articles taped to the mirror. "Is that your research on the graduation?"

"Some of it, yeah." He followed her across the room, thankful that it had been laundry day and the usual piles of clothes were all tucked away in duffel bags.

"That's kinda cool. It's sort of like one of those cop shows," she said, giggling a little. But her laughter stopped as she saw the clippings taped next to the mirror. Dean knew what they were – obituary notices that Dad had printed out of every strange or unexplained death, going back almost three years. They covered a two-foot section of the wall, about chest high to slightly above eye level, and ran another four feet across the length.

Buffy stopped about halfway through the listings, reaching out to touch one. He stepped closer and saw that it was for a young girl from Jamaica. She'd been found at the high school with her throat slit. It wasn't as unusual as some of the other deaths that were posted, but this one meant something to her.

When she turned to him, eyes wet with unshed tears, he enveloped her in his arms, realizing that he had been wrong. They all meant something to her. She was the guardian of the Hellmouth with the whole town of Sunnydale under her protection. Each slip of paper was a reminder of the people who'd died under her watch, the ones she'd failed to keep safe. There were more than a hundred notices on the wall.

He knew this pain. The hippies in the backwoods of Wisconsin who didn't listen to his warning and were taken by a wendigo, the frat boy in Pennsylvania who walked in on them trying to evict a poltergeist and got the full wrath of the ghost before they'd burned the bones. But he didn't have to live through the aftermath. He didn't have to interrogate his classmate's parents, didn't have to lie and let them believe that their daughter was alive and normal, didn't have to hunt down and kill his classmate because she'd become a vampire. And he didn't know which of their lives was worse – his for being lonely and detached or hers for being tied to the people around her and caring about them.

From where he stood, both their lives sucked.

"I'm so sorry, Buffy." He rubbed her back, trying to soothe away the pain. The pain that he'd caused. "I can take them down."

He reached out to rip a paper off the wall, the one about the girl, when Buffy covered his hand with hers. She laced her fingers through his and led him to the bed.

"Baby," he said, "We don't have to—"

She pulled his head down for a kiss, the sweetness of her mouth tinged with salt. Somewhere in the corner of his mind, a voice that sounded like Sammy told him that this wasn't the way to help her deal with the pain. This was a temporary fix, a band-aid for a wound that required stitches, and it would only leave her feeling empty. But he didn't need anyone to tell him that – he knew from experience.

Except her hands were tugging off his jacket, and his body was responding because it knew what she wanted. And because he wanted her, too. She shed her coat, dropping it on top of his. His hands slid under her shirt and lifted it over her head. As she pulled free, he noticed the look in her eyes, the glint of determination instead of passion, and he hesitated. She didn't want him; she wanted to fill the void, to chase away the pain that was eating at her insides.

Their lives were bloody and violent, and pain was an expected byproduct. The physical stuff was easy; bruises fade, cuts scab over, even broken bones mend in a few weeks. The emotional impact, though, was visceral, open sores that continued to bleed long after the external scars had faded. It was the kind of pain that he shoved down, buried under booze and sex until he was numb enough to forget, at least for a little while.

He didn't want that for her. He wanted to take away her pain, to heal her and leave her whole. If only he knew how.

Maybe it would be different this time. She wasn't some girl he'd picked up at a club or a diner; she was Buffy. _His _Buffy. And maybe they could ease each other's pain, forget that they fought demons and spirits and vampires and shapeshifters. Or that sometimes civilians paid the price before the monster was killed. Maybe they could forget that he was a hunter and she was the Slayer. Maybe, this time, they could just be Buffy and Dean.

* * *

"I'll raise you five M&Ms," said Xander, adding to the pile of multi-colored chocolates in the center of the table.

Oz shifted his eyes from Xander's face to the cards in his hand and wordlessly slid his pieces forward.

Dean glanced at his hand. A pair of jacks wasn't bad for five-card draw, but poker was more about reading the other players than the cards he'd been dealt. For example, he knew Xander didn't have anything good despite the confident wager. They'd only played a few rounds so far, but anytime Xand had a decent hand, he couldn't help smiling. Then he'd try to slow play the pot and draw more people along to the next round instead of betting big and trying to crowd others out. At most, he had a low pair.

But he couldn't get a handle on Oz. Usually, people have a tell, some sort of nervous tic that they unconsciously perform when they get a good or bad hand. Someone like Willow, whose emotions were stamped across her face, was easy to read, which was probably why she was sitting on the bed, surrounded by books and maps, searching for the location of the crypt with Sammy. Her boyfriend was the total opposite. He had the ultimate poker face. His nostrils would flare on occasion, but he was expressionless when he checked his cards.

"It's still a good hand when your cards have all the same symbol, right?" asked Buffy. "Even if they're not in order?"

Everyone at the table groaned.

"I guess that means I'm folding," Dean said as he laid his cards face down. Xander and Oz followed suit, and Buffy gleefully gathered the candies towards her, popping a few into her mouth. "Hey, those are for betting, not eating!"

She stuck her tongue out at him. "If someone hadn't eaten the last piece of chicken, I wouldn't need to eat these."

Xander muttered something about Buffy gobbling down half the bucket, but changed the subject when she glared at him. "So, Oz, your band's playing in L.A. this weekend?"

Oz nodded. "Devon's uncle has a friend who knows a guy who owns a club."

"Who says nepotism is dead in the world of rock 'n' roll?" Xander finished shuffling the cards and dealt the next hand.

"I wouldn't exactly call the Dingoes 'rock and roll'," Oz said as he picked up his cards, one by one, his demeanor unchanging. "More like a pallid, entitled imitation of something that might not have been so great in the first place." *

Dean chuckled as he wrapped his mind around the description. Although he could hardly recall what they'd played the night he met Buffy, he remembered thinking that it sucked. "Why be in the band if you don't like the music?"

"I agree; it's a perplexing dilemma." Oz nodded, wrinkling his forehead.

It wasn't really an answer, but Dean didn't think he was getting anything more. Usually such calmness and evasiveness would be unsettling, but Xander and Willow could be a little high-strung and direct – to the point that he almost wondered how they were able to keep Buffy's identity a secret. Oz seemed to provide some much needed balance to the group.

"Actually," said Buffy, pushing some candies to the center, "I think you have the same tastes. You should check out Oz's CD collection."

"Oh yeah?" Dean asked.

"Dude," called Sammy from the bed, "he was blasting Motorhead in the van on the way over."

The band wasn't at the top of his list of favorites, but it was one of those lesser known ones to people that didn't appreciate metal. "Which album?"

"_Ace of Spades_," Oz said as he traded out two cards. "Was going through Giles' records earlier and found a UK release of _No Sleep 'til Hammersmith_. Gotta see if he'll let me burn that onto a CD."

"You can do that?" Dean's cell phone was about as technologically advanced as he got, and that was only because it was a necessity. Sam often complained that nothing they owned came from the recent decade. He was mostly right.

"I got a guy."

"How hard would it be to put that onto a tape?" He called Oz's bet and, noticing that Buffy had eaten the rest of her M&Ms, put in for her as well. After drawing that last card, he was fairly certain that he had the pot, but the smile she gave him would have been worth it anyways.

"Not that hard." It was probably the most direct Oz had been all evening. "You wants?"

"Hook me up, man," said Dean. Music would definitely make the long car rides a little more bearable, especially since they hit plenty of patches of dead air. "What else you got?"

"My tastes tend to wander towards eclectic, but I think I've got a few you might enjoy. I'll bring 'em by when I'm done." Oz flipped over his cards, revealing three aces, including the spades. He'd literally told the table one of his cards, but Dean hadn't been able to pick up on it. It was a little unnerving.

"That'd be awesome. Thanks." He laid out his hand, full house, fours over queens, and started pulling the candies towards him.

"Hey," Buffy said, putting a hand on his arm to stop him, "what if my hand beats yours?"

Dean raised an eyebrow. "You've either got two pair or a small straight, neither of which would beat my hand."

Buffy scrunched her face and frowned as she showed her straight. He couldn't help the smug smile from spreading on his face. She started to take her hand away so he could collect his winnings, but he grabbed it and pulled her into his lap, making her erupt in a fit of giggles.

"Looks like Buff needs to buy in for another bag," said Xander, shaking his head as he smiled at them. "Would anyone else care for a refreshing beverage while I'm out?"

Since everyone raised a hand, Oz volunteered to help carry the sodas back.

"You guys know where it is?" asked Dean.

Xander nodded his head and said, "Got it covered. But thanks, man."

Dean watched as Xander and Oz walked out, leaving the door slightly ajar so they could get back in. The hunter in him wanted to get up and shut it, but that would mean letting Buffy out of his arms. And he was afraid that if she did, the empty feeling might creep in. Because it hadn't yet. Not after they'd made love. Not after they'd taken down the notices off the wall. It hadn't even come with the twinge of guilt from Sammy's accusing eyes when he climbed out of Oz's van with the rest of Buffy's friends.

_Maybe it's going to take him a little longer to get over this crush_, Dean thought. His little brother had seemed alright with the plan, especially after he met Giles and saw the man's library. An actual, literal library, according to Buffy, since it was everything they'd thought worth saving from her unofficial headquarters at Sunnydale High. Dean should have been a little surprised that no one noticed books on pagan rituals shelved next to poetry or a catalogue of demons in the biology section, but he couldn't remember ever going to the school library. At least, never to look at books or the way they were indexed.

"Hey, Willow," said Sam, "is something up with Xander?"

"He kinda has bad memories of this place," Willow said quietly.

"He's been here before?" asked Dean. He hadn't noticed anything out of the ordinary. Well, maybe Xander had been a little tense and jittery, but that didn't seem too unusual for him. After all, they'd been playing poker and he was bad at bluffing.

She put down the book she'd been flipping through and nodded. "He was almost killed last year in one of the rooms upstairs."

"What kind of demon rents out a motel room?" The Winchesters stayed at no-tell motels for a reason and had no illusions about the type of people that rented out the rooms. But demons were a new kind of low. "On that note, who rents out a room to a demon?"

"Not a demon," said Buffy. "Faith."

Sam frowned and tilted his head. "Who's this Faith person you keep talking about?"

"We thought she was our friend, at first," Willow said. "And then it turned out that she was, ummm..."

"Bat-shit crazy," Buffy finished for her. "She killed a human, which is a total no-no for a slayer, then turned to the dark side and became a henchman for the mayor."

"But you're the Slayer," said Dean. He looked at Buffy for confirmation, that she was the one girl, the only girl, currently Chosen. She gaped back at him, her mouth opening and closing a few times as she tried to find a way to explain. But he didn't need an explanation. If another girl was called, it meant one thing. "You died?"

The emptiness came whooshing back in. It wasn't the cold, distant loneliness of before. This one was hot, jabbing needles poking his insides, filling his brain with one thought – Buffy was dead.

"Sammy," said Willow as she got up from the bed, "maybe you and I should—"

"No, stay." Dean waved her back down. He stood up quickly, forgetting that there was someone sitting in his lap, someone who would have fallen on her ass if she didn't have superhuman reflexes. "I think I need a little fresh air."

"Dean—" her voice called as he went out the door and closed it securely behind him.

He didn't know where he was going. He thought maybe getting drunk would be a good option, something to dull the pain, but he couldn't leave the motel. Dad's orders. Then his eyes lit on the familiar shape of the Impala, the neon glow of the motel sign reflected in its soft black sheen.

Climbing onto the hood, he rested his back against the windshield, arms crossed over his eyes so he could block out the world. A world without Buffy. It may have been just his imagination, but he felt the warmth of the engine through the thick layer of metal beneath his legs, even though the car had been idle for a few hours now. It was soothing, nevertheless.

He heard the door open and close, footsteps coming towards him. "A couple of years ago," she said, "I fought a vampire called 'The Master'. I... he bit me so he could escape his magical prison, and I passed out in a pool of water."

"And that's when Xander gave you CPR," he said, remembering the story from yesterday. "He told me. I guess I just didn't realize what it really meant."

He raised his arms and opened his eyes to see Buffy standing there, looking down at him. He reached out, sliding an arm around her waist, feeling the solidness of her body, her warmth. She was here, and she was real.

"It was only for a minute. Maybe two." Her fingertips brushed his temple.

"Enough for another girl to be called." He closed his eyes again, briefly. But the image of her was burned into his mind, her lifeless body floating through dark, murky waters. His eyes flew open. "Faith, huh?"

"Actually, she's the second since I died," she said, hesitantly, seeing him flinch at her use of the word. "That girl from Jamaica, the one in the obit, was the first. Her name was Kendra. She was kind of a nerdy slayer, read all the books, trained with her Watcher since she was a little girl. Perfect technique, almost zero social skills." She let out a little chuckle. "But she was my friend. And it's my fault she died."

Her sobs filled the air, and he quickly sat up, pulling her into his arms. "Baby, don't cry. Please. I'm sure she was a nice person, but I'm glad it was her and not you."

He could feel the emptiness seeping away as he held Buffy. His hands stroked her back as her tears fell onto his shoulder. And even though he didn't really believe in God, he said a silent prayer of thanks that she was alive and in his life.

"Faith showed up last year," said Buffy when her sobs had subsided, "running from a butt-ugly vamp who killed her Watcher. But she– she's not the kind of person who asks for help. And we... had some misunderstandings. Doesn't excuse her for trying to kill An- any of my friends."

Dean could have sworn that she meant to say something else, but he didn't push it. "Where's she now?"

"Permanent fixture at Sunnydale Memorial." She looked up at him, a mixture of concern and fear in her frown. "Doctors don't know when, or even if, she'll wake up. I couldn't... I can't justify pulling the plug on her."

A vegetable. That was almost worse than being dead. With her in that state, and apparently homicidal, Buffy was the only one capable of being the Slayer. Which meant that she'd go on fighting demons and vampires, constantly in danger of dying – again. But this was the life they led. Slayers and hunters protecting normal people from creatures they didn't believe existed.

He sought reassurance in her lips, a way to forget the past that held her death and the future that no doubt included his own. Her kiss held the promise of now, this moment, when they were both full of life and heat and wants and needs.

"Too bad your friends are here," he said, his breath ragged as he drew back from her.

"Too bad you can't leave the motel." Her lips brushed his again as her fingers traced little circles on his leg.

His eyes traveled back to the room where light was shining from the window. The room above it was dark and vacant. "He said we had to stay in the motel. He never said anything about getting another room."

She turned her head, following his gaze. Her little half-smile appeared, granting her assent with another kiss.

* * *

_Next up _**Chapter 22: Sam** Sometimes, investigating pays off. And some things are better left unknown.

*Oz's line taken from an article by Joey Sweeney, _Philadelphia Weekly_, 12/25/2002


	22. Chapter 22: Sam

**A/N:** Thanks to all of you who have followed and favorited. Cookies to those who left a review; you fill my heart with warm fuzzies. And extra special thanks to my beta readers, Katrina and isugirl.

**Warning: **Rated T for language.

**Disclaimer: **Buffyverse owned by Joss Whedon. Supernatural owned by Eric Kripke.

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Two: Sam**

Sam looked at his watch as he skimmed over another page in the ancient leather-bound book he'd taken off one of the shelves in Giles' apartment. If he'd been a normal kid who normally went to school, he'd probably be halfway through third period by now. But he wasn't a normal kid and, for the first time in a very long time, he was glad about that. Because he'd never been to a school with books like the one in his hand. And most school librarians looked askance at him whenever he handled anything aside from the dictionary or a paperback.

Something caught his eye at the bottom of the page. It was a grouping of symbols that he'd seen before, but he couldn't decipher the surrounding text. "Mr. Giles?" he said, tentatively, not wanting to interrupt the quiet that had settled ever since Xander and Anya had left to get lunch. "I was hoping you could help me? I'm trying to translate this passage, but I guess my Ancient Sumerian isn't as good as I thought it was."

"Let's have a look at it, then," said Giles, waving him over. Sam took a seat on the couch next to the Englishman and opened up the book. "Ah, yes, you see here? This symbol indicates that the text is actually written in Akkadian, not Sumerian. Although scholars believed the two derived from the same Semitic root, it's been discovered that they are actually _sprachbund_—"

"Languages that are technically unrelated," Sam said, "but share commonalities through loaned words and linguistic adaptations?"

"Yes, that's right." Giles removed his glasses and peered at Sam. It was an expression Sam had seen before from teachers taken aback at the intelligence of the new student whose list of previous schools was often longer than the class roster. However, Giles surprised him with the next remark. "I suspect you're fluent in Latin as well? Any exposure to Babylonian or Etruscan?"

Sam nodded in response to Giles' questions. "I can read Latin well enough. We've got a family friend with quite a collection. Nowhere near as extensive or as old as yours, but enough to keep me busy. We'd sometimes stay with him when Dad would go on extended hunts, anything that lasted a month or two, before Dean was old enough to drive."

"And what sort of formal training have you had in regards to the supernatural?"

Formal training? Sam wasn't sure he understood the question. Dad consulted his journal when they came across something he'd seen before. If he hadn't, he would call Bobby or Pastor Jim, rattling off attributes like a list of symptoms. They'd prescribe cures in the form of a beheading, salt and burn, shot through the heart, or something else equally macabre. "You mean like whether to use a stake or a silver bullet? Or the proper way to exorcise a ghost?"

"While such knowledge is essential, especially to hunters like yourself and your family, I was thinking more along the lines of academia." Giles stood up and walked to his desk, returning with a hardbound book that looked worn through much use. "This is _The Watcher's Handbook_, given to me when I first joined the Council. I think you'll find it an interesting read."

"Wow, Mr. Giles," said Sam, unable to find words equal to the gift he'd been given. "I... thanks."

"Think nothing of it," Giles said, starting to look flustered. "Willow was disinterested, citing her inability to maintain emotional clarity, although I believe she'd be quite welcome among the ranks. As for Xander..." He paused, searching for a tactful way to express his thoughts. "He has... many wonderful talents, but he-he's less suited to the role of Watcher."

Sam turned over the book in his hands, opening it to find Giles' name scrawled neatly on the cover. "How old were you when you began training to become a Watcher?"

"From birth, I suppose," said Giles, a sad smile on his face. "My father was a Watcher, as was his mother, my grandmother, before him. I fought like the dickens against it. Who in their right mind would want to spend hours on end looking into dusty old books for fragments of abstruse prophesies whilst wearing tweed? Dear God, I've become my father."

Giles shook his head, though Sam could tell that it wasn't really an unexpected or wholly distasteful discovery.

"I was ten when he revealed his plans for me," Giles continued. "Expected me to fall in line and carry on the family tradition. I showed an aptitude in magic and was already proficient in Latin as well as having a rudimentary understanding of several ancient and esoteric languages. Much like yourself, Sam." He leveled his gaze at the tall, scrawny, dark-haired boy before him, perhaps recalling his past self. "I can sense the essence of magic in you, some latent ability. You've a keen intellect combined with the versatility and quick thinking of a hunter. I think you'd make a fine Watcher."

Fighting against the supernatural wasn't the life Sam wanted when he grew up, but it was most likely the life he would lead. Becoming a Watcher was a far more appealing path than following in his dad or his brother's footsteps – despite the tweed. They still worked to rid the world of evil; they just did it with more refinement than most of the hunters he'd met. At least, Giles did, though that could just be a side effect of being British. "You really think so?"

"I do." He put his glasses back on and turned his attention back to the book Sam had brought over. "Why don't we start here and see what you know so far?"

"Well, this symbol here means 'yellow'," said Sam, pointing to the section he'd read earlier. "And this one is for 'eye' or 'eyes'. I think this one is 'fire'."

"That's correct." Readjusting his glasses, Giles exuded the demeanor of an Oxford professor as he elaborated the point. "The color yellow has been found in some of the earliest forms of cave art, and the Ancient Egyptians associated it with gold, a highly valued metal as seen in the treasures of the tombs. It may have been used in the context of money, hence the transference of the symbol between Sumerian and Akkadian.

"As for the rest of the text," he said, "I believe it describes an ancient ritual to one of the early pagan gods. It reads, 'And two tributes were given. One was sacrificed to ensure a bountiful harvest. The other was released into the wild. The scapegoat was appeased, and his eyes flashed yellow'. Within the context, I believe that 'flashed' works better than 'fired', don't you agree?"

Disappointment seeped through Sam as he mulled over the text. He'd been hoping for something more substantial, something to help them find the thing that had killed his mother. "Does it name the pagan god?"

Giles studied the book, flipping through the pages. "I'm sorry, no. There's only reference to the 'scapegoat'." He cast another measured glance at the boy. "This isn't about the gem, is it?"

"Umm..." Sam swallowed, wondering how to get himself out of this mess. He was sure that a Watcher would be able to help them discover more about the yellow-eyed demon, but he'd spent so many years hiding his past, keeping his family's secrets, that it was difficult to overcome.

"From my experience," the older man said, his eyes so full of sorrow that there was no room for pity, "the circumstances in which a person finds himself faced with the supernatural and decides to become a hunter are usually personal. And quite painful."

They sat there for a few moments, each burdened with his own memories. Sam wondered what Mr. Giles had lost on his way to becoming a Watcher. It had seemed a much brighter solution than the life of a demon-hunter. It wasn't driving for hours until they reached another crappy motel in another crappy town where something was wrong but they weren't exactly sure what. It was structured and communal; hours spent in rigorous training or poring through texts. They had resources on a much grander scale than those at his father's disposal, if Giles' apartment was anything to go by. But he talked about loss in an intimate way, something he'd experienced first-hand.

"Anya," Xander said as he threw open the door, "I don't know how many times I have to say this to get it through that pretty little head of yours, but threatening to eviscerate someone if they get it wrong only does one thing: ensure that they spit into your food. Especially when you're using the drive-thru."

Sam quietly thanked Giles as Xander and Anya continued to argue in the background. The moment had passed and he'd failed to work up the nerve to ask for help. He just hoped he'd be able to find the courage before he left Sunnydale.

* * *

"Hey, Mr. Giles," said Dean, standing in the doorway to the apartment. "I'm here to pick up Sammy."

"Please come in." He stepped aside to let the younger man in.

"Dude, you ready? We gotta go." Dean shifted nervously as Sam gathered the stack of books he was borrowing. "Thanks again for keeping an eye on him, Mr. Giles. I'll probably go down to the school tomorrow to get him enrolled."

"Call me Giles," he said. "It's no trouble at all, really. He's been a great help with the research. And Buffy's friends are always welcome in my home. _All_ of them."

Sam smothered his laughter as he walked over to where his brother was standing. "Thanks for the books, sir. I'd really like to continue our discussion. Maybe next time?"

"I would like nothing more, Sam," said Giles, following them to the door. "Of course, you're free to call me at any time should you have further questions."

"What was that about?" Dean asked as they made their way to the car.

"Nothing really," said Sam with a shrug. But he knew that his brother wouldn't be satisfied with that answer. "Just talked about books and etymology."

"You mean like bugs and stuff?"

"No, that's _ento_mology." He probably shouldn't have been surprised that his brother knew the word, but it was easy to forget that Dean was pretty damn smart. He just never got the point of going to school or earning grades when Dad didn't care how well or poorly they did. "_Ety_mology is the study of languages and words; how they grow, evolve, and change."

Dean muttered something under his breath as he got in the car, probably along the lines of what a geek his brother was. But Sam didn't mind because he had his own fuel for teasing his older brother.

"Man," he said, "you suck at meeting parents."

"What?" Dean shot a sideways glance at his brother. "Giles is _not_ Buffy's father."

"Nope." Sam tried to keep a straight face, but couldn't keep the sarcasm from his voice as he continued, "He's just a male authority figure in her life whom she respects and admires, the person she goes to when she needs advice and whose orders she follows." He paused, waiting for a retort. "Should I go on?"

"Okay, maybe you've got a point," said his brother. "So what do I do?"

This was a first for Sam – his brother was asking _him_ for advice about a girl? "I think you're gonna have to do a little more ass kissing if you want his approval."

"The hell do I need his approval for?"

"You seriously don't get how this dating thing works, do you?" Sam said, shaking his head.

"Sammy, how many second dates have I been on?" said Dean. "There's not much of a reason to stick around after you hook up."

"Pretty sure you and Buffy are past the hooking up part." He tried to keep the bitterness from his voice. Dean was actually making an effort to be with her, so it had to be serious. However, Sam couldn't help feeling a little jealous towards his brother. "Look, Giles is just trying to get to know the person his Slayer is spending so much time with. You were with Buffy when she got into that tussle with Spike and have been hunting with her for the last two days."

"Yeah, running around campus flashing Harmony's picture in a yearbook isn't what I'd call hunting." Dean winced, recalling the day's activity. "I bet half those people thought I was some stalker ex-boyfriend."

_At least she has a picture_, Sam thought. He'd taken dozens of school portraits, but he'd never stayed at a school long enough to get a yearbook with his photo in it. Not that he'd ever had a yearbook. It was one of the few times when he actually hated being at school, seeing all the other kids looking for photos of themselves and their friends, exchanging books, writing "Have a nice summer!" in the pages.

"Man, does this mean I have to hang around and do research? I hate research." Dean tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, a frown darkening his face. "You really think he doesn't like me?"

Sam's laughter filled the car, prompting Dean to crank up the radio to drown out his brother's voice.

* * *

Sam jolted from sleep. The sheets twisted around him, jerking him back to the bed as he tried to sit up. He took a deep breath to calm his racing heart before he worked to free himself from the tangled mess. His eyes adjusted to the darkness, and he shot a glance towards Dean, hoping he hadn't woken his brother up.

But Dean wasn't there.

Panic started his heart beating double time again, his eyes searching the darkened room for clues. He flipped on the light. Dean's bed was rumpled, like he'd lain there, but his shoes were gone. So wherever he'd gone to, he'd done it of his own free will.

_Probably just getting a soda. In the middle of the night. _Sam opened up the mini-fridge and saw the cans of beer and soda. On top of the fridge was a bag full of snacks, so Dean hadn't run out to the vending machine either. Which could only mean one thing.

"He's gonna catch some shit from Dad," Sam muttered. Of course, that would mean someone would have to tell him. And then he'd have to give a crap. But Dad didn't like it when his orders were disobeyed, so there would be some form of punishment.

A thud came from the room upstairs. It was probably what woke him up in the first place. Considering the type of motel it was, the guy had to be pretty cheap or had overpaid for a hooker. Just another one of those random facts that he'd picked up on the road with Dad and Dean.

He put on his jeans and shoes and opened the door, minding the salt line that they'd laid before going to bed. Sam stepped outside, feeling the chill of the cold fall air as he slipped a t-shirt over his head. The Impala was still parked in its spot just in front of the room, so Dean must have walked somewhere to meet Buffy. Sam strode past the car, wondering which direction his brother had gone. There was a bar in one direction, which would be Dean's usual late night haunt if they weren't restricted to the motel. But there was a diner in the other direction, which seemed more like the kind of place Buffy would want to go.

"My, my, won't you make a nice treat," said a voice from behind him.

Sam stiffened, cursing his stupidity at leaving the hotel room unarmed. There was a full arsenal of weaponry in the trunk, of course, but to get to them, he'd need a key. And to get the key, he'd need to get back in the room. Assuming Dean hadn't taken the keys with him, wherever he'd gone.

Maybe he was overreacting. Maybe, when he spun around, it would just be an older woman making inappropriate comments to a minor.

He turned, slowly and precisely, doing his best to remain focused enough to assess the situation. A female figure advanced from the shadows, moonlight creating deep lines in the ridges on her forehead, distorting her face even more. Her dark hair and business attire meant that she probably wasn't the vampire that Buffy and her friends had been searching for. She bared her elongated fangs, her lips curved in a sinister smile, and she prepared to strike.

"Dean!" he cried as she lunged towards him.

The vampire was strong, but he'd spent most of his life training to fight against things that were much stronger and faster than himself. Instinct kicked in, and he ducked at the right second. She flew past him, though she quickly regained her balance, readying herself for another attack. The door to the room upstairs flung open. They both turned to see Dean emerge, clutching a sheet against his, apparently naked, body.

Dean took in the scene, despair creeping over his face as he realized that he wouldn't make it downstairs in time. "Sammy!"

A blur rushed passed him and flipped over the railing, landing gracefully on top of the Impala. Buffy was standing there in Dean's shirt, wielding the long blade of a machete like an extension of her arm. Awe swept through Sam as he realized that he wasn't seeing Buffy – he was seeing the Slayer.

"Sam, get down," she commanded, her voice calm and even. He obeyed, dropping to his knees as she dashed across the car, leapt through the air, and sliced off the vampire's head in a single stroke. The body wavered for a moment before exploding into a cloud of dust.

"Are you okay, Sammy?" asked Dean, grasping his brother's arm and pulling him up.

Sam looked at his older brother, a cheap motel sheet wrapped around his waist, then at Buffy, gingerly walking towards them in her bare feet. And Dean's shirt. His eyes flicked back to the light emanating from the room they'd come out of. He yanked his arm free. "I'm fine."

He heard Dean cry out his name as he slammed the door behind him. He considered bolting the door, but that wouldn't help. His brother would just break the window if he couldn't find any other way to get in. So, he threw himself on his bed, closing his eyes and waiting for the inevitable.

It didn't take long. Only a few minutes had passed before he could hear the door open. He tried to keep his voice calm and indifferent as he said, "What do you want?"

"Hey, Sam." Not Dean. It was her. That wasn't fair. He couldn't get mad and yell at _her_. "Can we talk?"

"Whatever," he said.

He rolled onto his back and sat up, leaning against the headboard. She sat down near his legs and put her hand over his. It was warm and comforting, a feminine gesture that his brother and dad never used. Sam flinched and pulled his hand away, despite the hurt he saw on her face.

"I was fifteen when I learned that I was the Slayer," she began. "Used to be one of the popular kids, hung out with seniors even though I was only a freshman. Never home on a Friday night, you know?"

Yeah, he knew. She was exactly the kind of girl Dean went out with. Maybe his first impression of her had been wrong.

"Then I was Chosen. It sort of changed the way I looked at things. Ended up burning down my high school gym when I took out the Big Bad and got expelled. So we moved here. I was sixteen, at a new school with a new Watcher, and I met new friends – Willow and Xander. And Cordelia, but you don't know her, so..."

Sam wondered if there was a point to her story and when she was going to get to it because he really didn't care about her or her past. She'd picked his brother; she could go bore him with the details of her life. Except that she'd just saved his. _Because Dean wasn't in the room like he was supposed to be_.

"Anyways," Buffy continued, "I met someone else, too. He was tall and dark and mysterious. I kept telling myself it was just a crush, but I fell for him. And I fell hard. Even when I knew he was wrong for me. So I'm not going to tell you what _you_ feel or how you're feeling it. You're the only one that knows. But I _can_ tell you how _I_ feel. And I feel something for your brother."

He looked up, wishing he could will those words away. At least she hadn't disregarded his feelings for her, though she'd rejected him all the same. "He doesn't deserve you."

"Yeah, well, I don't think I deserve him," she said with a rueful chuckle.

"But, Buffy, you're the Slayer."

"Yup. That's me. She who hangs out a lot in cemeteries." Her lips twisted into a wry smile. "But your brother treats me like a person. There aren't a lot of guys who know _what_ I am, let alone accept me _as_ I am. With him, I'm not Buffy, the Vampire Slayer, or Buffy Summers, college freshman. I'm just Buffy."

"I liked you before I found out that you were the Slayer," he said, unable to give up hope. "It doesn't matter, though, does it? Because all the girls fall for Dean."

"Sam..." She let out a sigh. "You're a wonderful kid—guy, and I know you're going to make some girl very happy one day. Believe me, you've got your very own brand of Winchester charm."

_Just not the one that appeals to Buffy_, Sam thought as he looked away. "Okay, I get it. Doesn't mean I have to like it."

"No, you don't have to like it." She reached for his hand again, and he didn't pull away this time when she gave it a squeeze. "But you do have to let your brother in because he's beating himself up out there."

"Fine," he said, gruffly. "He can come back in."

As Buffy got up and walked to the door, he wondered how she had convinced Dean to stay outside. Usually, he'd be up in Sam's face, asking a million questions, checking for wounds. She'd come instead. And he watched as they held a wordless conversation at the door before Dean entered the room, fully clothed, thank God, his shirt buttoned up since Buffy was still wearing his t-shirt.

"Sammy," his brother said in a shaky voice, "you okay? Nothing hurt?"

"I'm fine." But he wasn't. He just didn't want to talk about it.

"He'll be fine, Dean." She put her hand on his brother's shoulder, a reassuring caress instead of a friendly squeeze.

"Buffy." The way his brother said her name brought an unexpected stab of pain. "I, uh..."

"I'll do a sweep of the area," she said, a soft smile on her lips. "Make sure there aren't any other nasties hanging around before I head back to the dorms." Dean made a move to protest, but Buffy quieted him with a kiss. "Stay here and take care of your brother. I'll be okay."

Dean watched her from the doorway, keeping vigilance as she climbed the stairs. He didn't move until she came out of the room and left the motel. When she was gone, he shut the door, turned to his brother, and sat down across from him on the other bed. "Sammy, we talked about this. I mean, I told you about me and Buffy."

"It's one thing to know about it," said Sam in a flat voice. "It's another to see it."

If he were being honest with himself, what hurt him most wasn't that Buffy had chosen Dean. Girls always picked him, nothing new there. Even the Slayer wasn't immune. It was the fact that Dean had chosen _her_. He'd never done that before. Sure, he'd gone out with lots of girls, but he'd always put his little brother first.

Buffy was different. He'd let Sam go with her the night they'd met after he found out that she was the Slayer. He'd left his little brother at Xander's to go on patrol with her, although he barely knew the guy. Sure, they'd bonded during the campus tour, but Dean didn't trust anyone to watch his brother. Not even Sam's Mathlete coach, Mr. Walters. He'd also twisted Dad's orders, following the letter instead of the intent, just so he could be with her.

"I-I'm sorry, Sammy," said Dean. "I wasn't... I didn't think you'd get hurt. It was selfish of me."

"It's okay," he said, feeling a pang of guilt over his brother's anguished expression. Dean had cancelled dozens of dates at a moment's notice for Sam, to help him with homework, nurse his fever, even just because he didn't want to be alone that night. And he'd probably do the same to Buffy if Sam really pushed the issue. Even though it would kill him. "Really, Dean, I'm okay. I'll get over it. Besides, I'm the one that fucked up. I shouldn't have gone out unarmed. It was a stupid thing to do."

"Yeah, it was. But you wouldn't have come out if you hadn't been looking for me." He ran a hand over his face. "Dad's gonna kill me for letting something happen to you. Again."

"Who says he has to know?" said Sam. It was clear, from his brother's attitude, that he was planning to confess and take the blame. "But that means you have to tell him about Buffy."

Dean sighed. "I guess so."

"What are you going to do when Dad gets back?" asked Sam. "I mean, you're gonna tell him that you've been going out with her, but what if he's got another job lined up? Are you gonna try to do the long-distance thing?"

"We haven't really talked about it."

"Don't you think you should?" Dean shot him a bitchface at the question, a clear signal to leave it alone. But he couldn't. "Look, I just don't want to see either of you get hurt."

"Gimme a break, Sam," he said, shaking his head. "It's not like I've ever done this before."

Sam studied his brother, recalling everything they'd been through since they'd arrived in Sunnydale. "You've changed, you know?"

"What do you mean? I'm still me."

"I meant in a good way." He'd seen Dean laugh during their prank wars, chuckle at movies, but he'd never seen him content, happy with his life. His brother may love being a hunter, but being with Buffy made him appreciate the other aspects of his life. "She makes things better."

"Yeah, she does." A smile formed on his lips as he mused over the thought. "I'll figure it out, Sammy. I always do."

Dean got up and checked the salt line, then turned off the lights. But Sam's mind was jumbled with thoughts that refused to settle. He lay there, listening to his brother's deep even breaths, sorting through Giles' words, Buffy's confession, Dean's unspoken admission of his feelings for her, until sleep began to take over his consciousness. As he drifted off, though, a part of him sensed that Dean was still awake.

* * *

_Next up _**Chapter 23: Buffy** Will talk of the future be a welcome present?


	23. Chapter 23: Buffy

**A/N:** Thanks to all of you who have followed and favorited. Cookies to those who left a review; you fill my heart with warm fuzzies. And extra special thanks to my beta readers, Katrina and isugirl.

**Warning: **Rated T for language.

**Disclaimer: **Buffyverse owned by Joss Whedon. Supernatural owned by Eric Kripke.

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Three: Buffy**

Buffy hitched her backpack higher on her shoulders as she made her way across campus, heading to the dorms. Usually, she would go to the library and try to study between classes since her nights were spent patrolling, but she wanted to check up on Dean. He'd called earlier this morning to tell her he was going to stay with Sam at Giles' apartment. It was a sign of how worried he was over his brother because he disliked research as much as she did.

She was passing through the quad when she heard a familiar voice saying some very familiar words.

"I mean, it hit me hard, you know, my dad," said Parker. "And since then I just don't put stuff off anymore. It's about living for now."

Buffy rolled her eyes, remembering how he'd used the exact same line on her – barely a week ago. She glanced at the girl he was talking to, wondering if she should warn her that Parker's idea of living for now meant trying to have sex with as many girls as he could. After running into one of his previous victims yesterday, she'd found out how many other girls he'd seduced – girls he quickly forgot after he'd slept with them.

It had all been a game to him. A game he was still playing on another unsuspecting young blond. Maybe it was time to remedy that. Tapping him on the shoulder, she said, "Parker?"

He turned around, his eyes widening in surprise when he saw her. She felt a little twinge of guilt seeing the bruise on his jaw where Dean had punched him. "Buffy! Buffy Summers, this is Katie Loomis."

Katie looked at her warily. Buffy remembered giving her former roommate Cathy the same glare when she caught her laughing with him. Had she really been so jealous? Over a guy like Parker? "I know things didn't work out with us, but I wanted to let you know that I can still be here for you as a friend."

"Umm... thanks, I guess," said Parker.

"Sara hasn't called you?" she asked, using the name of the girl she'd met. "You remember Sara, right? Short blond hair, you guys met at the bookstore last month? I ran into her at the Student Health Center yesterday. She saw us talking and told me I should get checked out too. Just in case."

"In case of what?" Katie said, her eyes darting to Parker, who had recognized the description and started to look worried.

"Well, Sara wouldn't say; she was a little shaken up." Oh, Buffy was loving this. "She wanted to call you, but she's had trouble getting you on the phone."

"Did she say anything else?" he asked in a shaky voice. His face had lost all color, making his eyebrows stand out, even more bushy and black than usual.

"No, she was headed to the pharmacy to pick up some sort of prescription ointment." Buffy paused, letting her words take hold in his imagination. Katie was looking more and more uncomfortable. "Although when I told her that we were just friends and weren't dating, she said I probably didn't have anything to worry about."

"I-I've got to get to class, Parker," said Katie, hurriedly standing up. "I'll see you around, okay?"

"Yeah, later, Cassie," he said, absentmindedly. She started to correct him, but decided it wasn't worth the effort and turned away. "I should probably get going, too. Bye, Buffy."

Buffy allowed herself a little smile as she watched him walk towards the Health Center. Now that he knew what it felt like to be screwed over, maybe he'd think twice about playing with another girl's affections. She continued on her way to the dorms, glad to count herself and Katie safe from his tactics. It was a good thing that Sam and Dean had shown up when they did, preventing her from making a mistake with Parker.

_But was it really a good thing?_

The thought slipped into her head, unbidden, and her steps faltered. Sure, the last few days with Dean had been great – wonderful, in fact. She'd never felt so free in a relationship. And that was what worried her. Good things didn't happen to her. Not to Buffy.

It wasn't just that he knew her secret identity. Ford and Angel had known she was the Slayer, although she could hardly call Ford a "relationship", considering he'd intended to have her killed on their first proper date. As for Angel... there had been far too many other things in the way, too many secrets, too much hurt, for her to fully enjoy being with him, even _without_ the gypsy curse hanging over their heads.

With Dean, she didn't have to worry whether or not he'd freak out when she beheaded a vamp. Or if he'd lose his soul and try to kill her friends. She was more worried whether he would notice that pimple under her chin or if her skirt made her hips look wide. With Dean, she almost felt normal.

But the thing that brought him here might also be the thing that kept them apart. He was a hunter, one who traveled across the country chasing demons. His father would be returning from L.A. soon, and he'd want results, to know the source of all the strange occurrences in Sunnydale. Once he learned of her and the Hellmouth, he'd want to leave. He probably had their next hunt already lined up.

Somehow, this didn't make the thought of Dean leaving any easier to bear. Buffy knew it was selfish of her, wanting him to stay. But didn't _she_ deserve a little happiness now and again? Didn't they both? She'd already given up so much as the Slayer. Hell, she'd even died for it. Was it so wrong to want this one thing for herself?

It would be wrong, though, to ask him to stay. Not when there was evil in the world, things in the darkness that few people knew about and even less were willing to fight. Dean and his family were needed out there – to protect innocent people from the dangers they wouldn't, or couldn't, comprehend. And she couldn't follow him. Her place was here, guarding this town, and the world, from the Hellmouth. They were bound to lives that had been chosen for them – hers by destiny, his by tragedy.

Their lives didn't leave much room for romantic complications. She wasn't sure how she felt about Dean Winchester, but she knew that whatever was between them was special. It wasn't like anything she'd felt before, not even with Angel. With the future so uncertain, however, she was afraid of exploring her emotions, afraid that she already cared far too much about him.

_This is what Willow warned me about_, Buffy thought as she reached her dorm room. She was over-thinking again, trying to work out a problem before it had even begun. He probably would leave Sunnydale at some point, but maybe he wouldn't. Or maybe him leaving didn't have to mean the end of their relationship. Maybe... maybe she should spend less time thinking _about_ him and call him so that she could actually spend time _with_ him.

* * *

Buffy hurried along the path, keeping a lookout in the darkness for any signs of vampire activity, like freshly turned graves or open mausoleum doors. She had one more cemetery to patrol before she could meet Sam and Dean at their motel room, where they would have a quiet evening of movies and take-out.

She was a little disappointed that she wouldn't get to spend any alone time with Dean, but she understood his reasons. Sam's safety was always his number one priority. Another reason why she was thankful that she was an only child. She had enough people to be responsible for, she couldn't imagine what life would be like if she had to take care of a little brother or sister.

But, in a way, she was looking forward to spending time with Dean without the sex. They hadn't really hung out and talked since the morning he cooked her breakfast. And everything had been so new between them that the conversation had been awkward at best. She was hoping that he'd be willing to open up to her more, now that she'd shared some of her past with him.

The buzz of her pager vibrating startled her out of her thoughts. She looked down at the screen, recognizing Dean's number. There had been a payphone near the cemetery entrance, so she turned around, heading back the way she'd come.

She reached the payphone and dialed his number. Instead of answering with a typical greeting, he asked, "Did you know that there are twelve cemeteries in Sunnydale?"

"Ummm, hi?" Buffy said. "I knew that, but how did you know that?"

"I drove through about three of them looking for you before I finally realized that I should just page you. Where are you?"

"Oakridge Memorial. But what do you mean—"

"Heading there now. See you in a few," he said. Then he hung up.

Buffy stared at the phone, wondering if she should be excited or worried. Then she remembered her resolution not to over-think everything between her and Dean. She would simply enjoy the present and worry about problems when they came up.

With newly strengthened resolve, she returned to the cemetery and sat on the least uncomfortable headstone she could find, waiting for Dean to show up. After a few minutes, she realized that sitting and waiting was far too conducive to thinking about things she wasn't supposed to be thinking about. She got up and resumed her patrol route, hoping to come across something to distract her busy mind.

Lucky for her, she spotted a newly turned vamp just past a fork in the road. Not so lucky for him.

He watched her approach, probably assuming that she would be an easy meal. She waited until she was a few yards from him before drawing out her stake, close enough to see the fear in his eyes as he realized whom he was facing.

"Slayer," he said. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"It's kinda in my job description." She smiled, giving him a little shrug. "You know, me – Vampire Slayer, and you – well, you're just dust."

His eyes narrowed, and he crouched into position, ready to attack. Her muscles tensed as she prepared to evade and counter. Then he turned and fled.

"Oh, I so don't have time for this," muttered Buffy as she took off after him.

He was fast, but she was faster and had learned a thing or two in the past few years about running through cemeteries. For example, she knew that he was running straight towards the chapel. She tackled him when he paused, deciding whether to go left or right to avoid the chapel walls.

They struggled on the ground until she managed to get on top. She lifted the stake, aiming for his heart.

"Wait," he cried. "What if I'm the next great love of your life? Do you really want to risk it? Angelus doesn't have to be the only vampire with a soul."

"Sorry to disappoint you, but Angel was hot, and you're... not." She shook her head, disapprovingly, at the frosted tips of his hair and black mesh shirt. "Besides, I'm into living, breathing men these days."

And with that, she plunged the wooden stake through his chest. The vampire disintegrated into a pile of dust beneath her.

"Have I told you how sexy you look when you're in Slayer mode?" said Dean.

Buffy looked up to see him walking towards her. Her heart skipped a beat, and not in a good way. She hadn't heard his car drive up and she wondered how much of the conversation he'd heard. What would he think about her and Angel?

He offered his hand, pulling her up and into his arms. "Dean, what—"

He silenced her with a kiss, his lips soft but urgent. "I missed you today."

"I missed you, too," she said, letting out a small sigh of relief at his words. "But who's watching Sammy?"

"Dad." He led her back to his car, opening the door for her.

"Really?" She took a deep breath as she got in, reminding herself to focus on the moment. Still, she felt a knot tightening in her stomach.

He slid into the driver's seat, but didn't start the car. Instead, he turned to her, saying, "Yeah, he got back from L.A. a couple hours ago. Didn't ask for a report or anything, just told me to go out and have some fun."

Dean had that confused look on his face again, like when his dad had let him and Sammy come to movie night. She had a feeling Mr. Winchester was quite the hard-ass who kept a tight grip on his boys, but right now, she didn't care. "Remind me to thank your dad when I meet him." She hadn't actually said that, had she? "Not that I need to meet him. I mean, I'm not one of those pushy girlfriends, who – I think I'll just shut up now."

He chuckled softly, then placed a gentle kiss on her lips. "It's okay. I want my dad to meet my girlfriend."

She looked up into his eyes, not sure if she believed what she'd heard. "Really?"

"Really," he said. With that simple affirmation, she felt the knot in her stomach loosen and disappear. In fact, she felt so light and free that she would float into the air if she weren't attached to Dean. "Buffy, I've been thinking."

A giggle bubbled to the surface before she could stop it. "Sorry," she said. "I've kinda been trying hard _not_ to think."

He raised an eyebrow, but shook off his questioning look before continuing, "Well, Sammy's been complaining about having to go to so many schools. He's got about two years before he graduates." His words tumbled out slowly, and she wasn't quite sure why he wanted to discuss Sam's education with her. "And Sunnydale seems as good as any to finish them out. I mean, now that the high school isn't smack dab on top of the Hellmouth, it'll probably be safe for him to be there, right?"

Buffy nodded. Her brain, which had been so active before, was suddenly quiet.

"I could get a job as a mechanic," he said, eyes shifting nervously away from her face. "We've got an old family friend, Bobby, who owns a salvage yard in South Dakota. He'd probably put in a good word for me."

She stared at him, still refusing to believe that this was happening. Good things didn't happen to her. Not to Buffy Summers.

"It was just a thought," said Dean, trying to fill the silence. "I understand if you don't want us to stick around—"

She pressed her lips against his as the words finally started sinking in. It took a second for him to respond, a second that seemed to last forever, and then he was kissing her back and wrapping her in his arms. "I want. I very much want," she said, pulling back to give him her answer. Though now that her brain had started working again, it didn't want to shut off. "But, what about your dad?"

"He mostly hunts alone while Sammy's in school." He shrugged, a wry smile on his face. "I mean, I might go out of town to help him out sometimes. Only for a couple of days. Maybe a week or two at the most."

"Does he know about me? I mean about me being the Slayer, not about me being your girlfriend." She couldn't help smiling as she said the words. His _girlfriend_.

"I didn't get a chance to tell him. In too big of a rush to come see you, I guess." He winked at her, and she knew he was teasing, but she didn't care. He had a smile to match her own, although his included a dimple. She placed a kiss at the corner of his lips, and the dimple disappeared as he kissed her back. "I'm still not sure I want him to know that this place is a Hellmouth. Not sure how he'd react to that. But you're still okay with me introducing my new girlfriend to him as the Slayer?"

"I think I'm okay with that." Apparently, she'd been wrong thinking that she couldn't smile any wider or feel any happier.

"So, um, I haven't..." he said, quietly, the smile falling from his lips. "I mean, us being together, it's not something -not something I've done before. Are you – are you sure this is something you want to try?"

"I've never been more sure." She looked into his eyes, watching his worry fade. But some of it remained. As experienced as he was with women, she realized that this relationship was something very new to him. In this situation, she was the experienced one. And she knew just how to instill a little confidence in him. "In fact, there are a couple of things I wanted to try with you."

He shot her a puzzled look, so she licked her lips and give him a coy smile. Understanding dawned on him, and that smug grin appeared on his face. "Oh really?"

"Really," she said, glancing up at him through her lashes. "Just some things I wouldn't feel comfortable doing with someone who wasn't my _boyfriend_."

"Well, as your boyfriend," he said, "it is my duty to do whatever it takes to help you feel more comfortable."

"And as your girlfriend," she replied, her fingertips grazing the fabric of his jeans, "it would be my _pleasure_ to make you feel more comfortable."

Dean drew in a sharp breath as fingers slid higher up his leg. "I really think I'm going to enjoy this whole 'being your boyfriend' thing."

* * *

_Next up _**Chapter 24: Dean** Breaking the news to Dad wasn't going to be easy. And John Winchester always has a few surprises up his sleeve.


	24. Chapter 24: Dean

**A/N:** Thanks to all of you who have followed and favorited. Cookies to those who left a review; you fill my heart with warm fuzzies. Special thanks to Katrina and isugirl for all their hard work as my beta readers. I will miss you and hope everything gets better for both of you. _Extra special thanks to Stephanie for stepping in and stepping up._ I owe you big time!

**Warning: **Rated T for language and suggestive content.

**Disclaimer: **Buffyverse owned by Joss Whedon. Supernatural owned by Eric Kripke.

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Four: Dean**

Something was tickling Dean's nose, but he wasn't ready to wake up yet. He'd been having a good dream. Actually, it was more of a memory than a dream.

He'd been sitting in the back seat of the Impala, too young to ride up front with Dad. Sammy was fidgeting in his car seat, the way he'd been doing for the last few days. Ever since they'd left home.

Dean could tell that Sammy was working up to a good scream, and Dad would pull over. He'd check to see if Sammy was hungry or needed changing, but he wouldn't find anything wrong because what was wrong with the baby wasn't something he could fix. What was wrong with the baby was wrong with them all.

Dad would quietly tell Dean to keep an eye on Sammy, stay in the car, and don't talk to strangers. Then he'd walk away. Sometimes, he'd be gone for several minutes. Sometimes, it was much longer. He would come back, eyes red, maybe a little glassy, and he'd slide behind the wheel and drive.

Dean didn't want that this time. He tried to shush Sammy, distract him with the metal car he'd picked up from the last gas station they'd gone to. He'd meant to bring it to Dad before they left, but Sammy had started fussing, and the station was barely a blip in the mirror by the time he remembered that it was still in his pocket.

Sammy, however, wasn't very interested in the toy. His face had started scrunching up, the way it did when he was ready to howl. Sneaking a glance at Dad, Dean unlatched Sammy from the car seat and put his little brother in his lap, holding him the way Mom showed him, careful to cradle his head.

The wrinkles in Sammy's face smoothed over, and he cooed happily. Dean rocked him in time with the gentle motion of the car, and soon they were both asleep. It was night by the time Dad woke him up, pulling Sammy from his arms. Dean had protested, sleepily, missing the warmth of the small body, the comfort of holding someone he loved.

He had that feeling again, that feeling of family, of belonging, as he sat cushioned in the back seat of his Impala. But it had been years since his little brother had curled up in his lap and slept, years since either of them had admitted to being weak, afraid of being alone and unloved. Sammy had grown up fiercely independent, always trying to do things on his own, without the help of his father or big brother.

Dean opened his eyes, looking down at the golden head of hair that had woken him up. He smiled as she snuggled in closer and buried her face into his bare chest. The soft curves of her body fit perfectly into his arms, filling in the empty spaces, as if she had been made just for him.

She wriggled again, her lips grazing his skin this time, and his smile turned into a grin. "Damn it, woman," he said, "your Slayer metabolism is gonna be the death of me."

Buffy giggled as she lifted her eyes to his. "Maybe I should have warned you that being my boyfriend is a very demanding position." She maneuvered herself so that she straddled his legs between hers. "Very demanding, indeed."

"Sweetheart, I think I'm quite happy with my position." His hand slid down her body and grasped her hip as the other slipped through her hair and brought her lips to his, pressing against her until she parted for him. "And more than capable of meeting your demands."

Her only response was a soft moan against his mouth, which he decided to take as agreement.

* * *

"How did things go with Sam and Giles today?" asked Buffy, her body nestled against him once more.

The Impala's windows had fogged up from their earlier exertions, blocking out the darkness of the cemetery. Dean wanted to stay here, shielded from the outside world by heavy metal doors and thick glass. He didn't want to talk about Sam or Giles or anyone who wasn't in the car right now. So he nuzzled her ear, tenderly kissing the whorls and curves of her skin.

"Dean," she said in protest, pulling away to look at his face. "That bad, huh?"

"Well, this has definitely been way more fun," he said. His wink was met with a roll of her eyes. He sighed. This must be the not-so-much-fun part of being a boyfriend. "Researching is just not my thing. But Sammy and Giles obviously have a lot in common. I think your Watcher is trying to recruit my little brother."

"Sam would make a great Watcher. Even at sixteen, he's probably had more experience than most of the old windbags on the Council." Buffy's enthusiasm suddenly faded. "Except that Giles isn't part of the Council anymore."

"He got fired from being a Watcher?" asked Dean. He couldn't imagine the stuffy, proper Englishman doing anything out of line.

"It was a stupid test where they drugged me to take away my powers and had me fight a vampire using my wits and human strength," she said. There was a hard gleam in her eyes as she spoke, that streak of anger that he remembered from the night they'd met. "The vamp got loose and turned one of the Council members who was guarding him. They ate the other one.

"Giles told me about the test, and I was so angry with him. He was supposed to be Watching _me_, not putting me in harm's way." Her hands curled into little fists, and he felt the pain in her voice. "He realized that too, I guess, and told the Council to shove it. But not before the vamp had taken my mother.

"I passed the test," she said in a flat, even tone. "A clever application of Holy Water burned him from the inside out. Giles staked the former Councilman. When we got back, the head of the Council fired Giles for interfering. Said his concern for me 'rendered him incapable of clear and impartial judgment'."

Sam had been right. Giles was as much a father to her as their dad was to them. And he could see that she was still hurting from his betrayal, even though he'd turned his back on the Council and chosen her. She might have forgiven him, but she hadn't forgotten.

"Anyways, I told them to leave before I got my strength back," said Buffy, a bit of cheerfulness creeping back into her voice. "We haven't had any dealings with them since. Unless you count Wesley. He was Faith's Watcher and stuck around when she went psycho. He's pretty useless, though. Couldn't even get them to bend the one time we did ask for help."

"And you and Giles are thinking this is a career choice for my little brother?" asked Dean, raising his eyebrow.

"I think he'd be more of a Gilesy kind of Watcher instead of an asshat like Travers," she said with a shrug.

After spending the day with them, Dean could see that Sam looked up to Giles in a way that he didn't look up to anyone else in their lives. Not him, not Dad, not even Bobby. And Bobby was the most intellectual guy they knew, who read dozens of languages and had a house full of books. But he was just as crude and gruff as any other hunter, preferring plaid shirts and trucker hats to tweed and glasses.

"What about me?" he said, pretending to look offended. "Aren't I Watcher material?"

"_This_ Slayer already has a Watcher, and I'd rather not have you Watching any others." She slipped her arms around his shoulders and kissed him, claiming him as her own. "Besides, it's not as fun to watch."

"You're right," he said with a soft chuckle. He kissed her again, threading his fingers through her hair. _Like golden wheat._

"What?" She had a puzzled expression on her face, and he realized that he'd spoken aloud.

"Your hair. It-it reminds me of golden wheat fields." His eyes dropped to the lock of hair in his hand. "Not just any fields, though. The ones in Kansas.

"That's where I was born," he said. "Lawrence, Kansas. We lived there until I was about five. Until my mom died."

She was quiet and still, and he was thankful for that. He hadn't planned on telling her this tonight. He didn't know why, but it was important that she knew.

"There was a fire. I heard Dad calling Mom's name." He licked his lips, remembering the smoke and the heat, the fear and panic. "He put Sammy in my arms and told me to run outside. 'Don't look back,' he said. But I did. And I couldn't see Mom anywhere."

He could feel a tear run down his face. Buffy put her hand on his cheek, and the tear disappeared in the warmth of her touch.

"It was a demon," said Dean, "a demon with yellow-eyes. Dad's tracked it as much as he could. And we've been hunting everything else in the meantime."

Now that the words were out, he felt better. But he was still scared to look into her eyes, scared to see pity for the motherless child he'd been. The one he still was.

"We may not have access to the full Council," she said, apologetically, "but Giles still has all his books. And a lot of contacts. I'm sure if we pool our resources together, we'll be able to find this yellow-eyed demon."

"You really think so?" he asked, glancing up at her. There was sadness there, but no pity. "I mean, Dad's got a lot of contacts and hasn't found much."

"The Council is an international organization that's fought against evil for generations," said Buffy, a wry smile on her lips. "I'm pretty sure they've got something in their archives. It's just a matter of accessing them."

"Have I told you that you are the _best_ girlfriend I've ever had?"

"You told me I'm the _only_ girlfriend you've ever had," she said, rolling her eyes.

"I never said there was a lot of competition." He laughed as she glared back at him. And it only took a few kisses for her frown to fade away.

* * *

It was half past two by the time Dean dropped Buffy off at her dorm and got back to the motel room. He tried to be careful as he opened the door, but he still heard the click as he stepped inside.

"It's me, sir," he said.

Dad sat at the table, chair facing the door, his single-action revolver cocked and pointed towards the door. Dean raised his hand, his ring glinting in the dim light, proof that he wasn't a shapeshifter since the silver would have burned his skin.

Dad lowered the gun, uncocked it, and set it on the table. "We need to talk, Dean."

As unconventional as his upbringing had been, Dean still knew that those words uttered from his father's mouth was never a good thing. He braced himself as he took a seat across the table, moving as quietly as he could because Sammy was fast asleep only a few feet away.

"When I came back from the war," Dad said, setting two glasses on the table, "I was a mess. I didn't look as bad as some of the other guys in my unit, but the things I'd seen... the things I'd done..."

He trailed off, lost in his memories. Over the years and the miles of cross-country driving, Dean had met most of his father's old war buddies and heard his stories. But he had a feeling this one was going to be different.

Dad shook off his thoughts and pulled out a bottle wrapped in a paper bag, pouring brown liquid into the glasses. He pushed one towards his son, took a sip from his own, and continued his story. "I met your mother after I came back. Her family had moved into town while I was gone. She was a firecracker, that one. So full of life."

Dean raised his glass to his lips, feeling the liquor burn as it made its way down his throat. This stuff must be stronger than usual because the burn was making his eyes water.

"Being with her, courting her – it kept me sane." His father took another large swallow from his cup. "If I had known that I would have so few years with her, I would have..."

"Dad," said Dean, feeling helpless in the face of his father's grief. If it had been Sammy, he could have pulled him into a hug. But this was John Winchester. He didn't do chick-flick moments.

"I fell in love with her, son. I still love her." He tossed back the remains of his glass and set it firmly on the table. "It's what keeps me going. Finding the piece of shit that killed her."

The liquor had finally worked its way through him, burning from the inside until all that was left was resolve and determination. This was the man Dean knew, driven and tough. This was the father he'd grown up with, the one he idolized.

"You've changed, Dean," he said, leveling a hard stare at his son. "I could tell when I saw you this afternoon."

"I haven't—" Dean stopped himself mid-protest. Sam had said as much a few days ago. And he had finally realized the point of his father's story. "I don't know how I feel about her, but I think I might..."

"She knows? About who you are and what you do?"

"Yeah, she knows." If there was a perfect time to tell his father about Buffy being a Slayer, this was it. But he couldn't bring himself to do it. It wasn't his secret to tell. Instead, he said, "Dad, I... I think I want to stay in Sunnydale."

His father reached over and took Dean's glass, still half-full, and drank from it. He nodded towards the other side of the room. "What about Sammy?"

"I think-I think Sammy would like to stay here, too."

"You don't think I can take care of him." The words sounded like an accusation, but there was no harshness in his tone. He stated it as a fact. One they both knew. "Not the way you do."

"I just think he'd like to stay in one place for a while," Dean said. "He's not like you and me."

"You and me, huh?" said his father, letting out a grim chuckle. He stared at the two empty glasses in front of him, but didn't refill either of them. "And you think you'll be happy here? Staying in one place?"

"I think I'd like to try."

His father raised his eyes to meet his son's. "What if I say no?"

"With respect, sir," said Dean, holding his father's gaze, "I'm old enough to decide on my own life."

"Where Sammy goes, you go." It was another statement. Another fact of their lives.

Dad unscrewed the cap and poured out another measure of alcohol in one of the glasses. "She must be a hell of a girl, your Buffy."

"Yes, sir, she is."

"I'll think about it." His father took another long swallow, draining his glass. "But you're right, Dean. You're a man now, have been for a long time. If you think you can carve out a little slice of heaven, I can't stop you."

"I'm not shooting for heaven, sir. I'll settle for apple pie." Dean smiled, ruefully, as he remembered his most recent slice of apple pie. He looked back at his father, who was already pouring himself another drink. "Dad, I'm... I'm just a phone call away if you need back up on a hunt."

"I know, son," he said, quietly, sipping from his glass. "I know."

* * *

_Next up _**Chapter 25: Sam** Something's different today. Maybe it's the way Dean and Dad have been acting. Or maybe it has something to do with the giant sinkhole that just appeared.


	25. Chapter 25: Sam

**A/N:** Thanks to all of you who have followed and favorited. Cookies to those who left a review; you fill my heart with warm fuzzies. Special thanks to StormyMonday for all her hard work as my beta reader.

**Warning: **Rated T for language.

**Disclaimer: **Buffyverse owned by Joss Whedon. Supernatural owned by Eric Kripke.

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Five: Sam **

"Where's Dad going?" asked Sam, watching Dad's truck turn the corner as his brother continued driving down the street.

"Back to the motel," Dean said. "Bobby's supposed to be faxing him some stuff about a he-witch in the area."

After their morning training session, which they still did even though Dad was back, they'd met him at a nearby diner for breakfast. He'd told them what Bobby had learned about the Gem of Amarra – that it gave near invincibility to the vampire who wore it. Stakes, crosses, Holy Water, and even sunlight would no longer be effective weapons. But he hadn't found anything to verify its existence beyond rumors and legends.

Sam was beginning to think that the gem was a myth - a wild goose chase concocted by Spike. From what Willow and Giles had said about the vampire, it seemed like something he might do. He seemed to revel in chaos and would probably enjoy watching Buffy run around in circles trying to figure out his next move. Unfortunately for him, she was far too occupied with Dean to play his game.

Noticing the familiar landmarks, Sam realized that they were on route to Giles' apartment. "Does he know where _we're_ going?"

"I told him we were gonna keep doing research," said Dean. "But if you're asking whether he knows that Buffy is a Slayer or that we're hanging out at her Watcher's place? Then, no, he doesn't know about that."

"You didn't tell him?" Sam was surprised. He'd heard his father and brother talking last night and figured it was about her.

"I figured I'd let Buffy explain it herself."

"So," Sam said, eying his brother, "she's meeting Dad?"

"Yeah," said Dean. "We're, um, all going out for dinner tonight."

"Wow." As far as Sam knew, his brother had never introduced a girl to their father. At least, not intentionally. "I never thought I'd see this day."

"It's not that big a deal."

"Dean, you've been dating her for a whole week. That's gotta be a record." Sam shook his head, unable to keep the grin off his face. "I mean, that's practically girlfriend territory for you."

His brother muttered something, but the words were lost as he swiped his hand across his face.

"Huh?" asked Sam.

Dean sighed. "I said I asked her to be my girlfriend last night."

"Seriously, man? Dean, that's great." Sam felt a twinge of jealousy, but his brother's smile made it easier to shove his feelings down. "Is that why you and Dad were acting all weird today?"

"I wasn't acting weird," said Dean, his smile slipping.

"Dude, I've spent way more hours with you than anyone else. Probably more than is healthy. Believe me when I say you were acting weird."

"What? I wanted you to sit next to Dad." Dean shifted in his seat and fixed his attention on the road. "There's nothing wrong with that."

"Except for the fact that we fight all the time."

Whenever Dean did something to upset their father, he would bend over backwards to make Dad happy. And, for some reason, he seemed to think that spending time with Sam was something that made Dad happy. But Sam didn't see why Dean having a girlfriend would upset their father.

"You know," Dean said, "you should really give him a break. He's done the best he could—"

"We're not having this argument again."

"Sammy, could you just listen for—"

"I get it, okay. He's our father, and I'm supposed to love and respect him. And I do." It was the same conversation, the same argument over and over. "But him coming back means that we're gonna have to leave soon. I really like it here. I don't want to leave.

"Don't you wanna stay?" asked Sam. Suddenly, he realized what his brother and father might have argued about. And why Dean didn't want to sit next to him, didn't want it to seem like they were both standing against their father. "Don't you wanna be with Buffy?"

"Yeah, I do." Dean glanced at him, a weary smile on his face. "Look, I can't promise anything, but maybe after dinner, we can sit down and talk. Dad knows you're growing up. He knows you're not happy. But he wants you to be safe. He's just trying to take care of you."

"I get that." In the back of his mind, he understood that Dad was trying to do what he thought was best. But Sam couldn't help wanting a different life. "I'm just tired of being the new guy. Tired of being a freak. I just want to be normal."

"Sammy, you almost got eaten by a vampire the other night," said Dean with a snort of laughter. "That's normal for us, but I'm guessing that living on the Hellmouth is not the kind of 'normal' you're talking about."

"Haha, very funny," Sam said, rolling his eyes. "You forgot the part where it was your fault I was out there in the first place."

"I already apologized for that one." Dean shot him a pointed glance before returning his attention to the road. "Besides, _you_ were the one who decided to go looking for me. Unarmed. I _know_ that Dad and I trained you better than that. "

"Okay, so some of it was my fault," said Sam, grudgingly admitting his mistake. "Anyways, you know what I mean about being normal. Buffy and her friends deal with the weirdness of the Hellmouth, but they still have lives outside of hunting down bad guys. They've got homes and families and friends. They go to the same school for a whole year. I've never had a yearbook. I don't even think I've had a picture in one."

"I know how you feel, Sammy. I really do," Dean said softly. "We'll talk it over with Dad tonight."

"Like that's gonna do any good," muttered Sam. Apparently, he hadn't said it quietly enough because he could feel his brother's glare. "Fine, I'll try to be patient."

They turned onto the street where Giles lived. Sam chuckled to himself as he remembered his brother's earlier interactions with Buffy's surrogate father. Hopefully, her meeting with their father would go more smoothly.

"So," Sam said, an idea popping into his head, "since Buffy's meeting Dad, is she gonna introduce you to her mom?"

"Shut up." Dean's eyes went wide at the prospect. "Stop being a little bitch."

"Sure," said Sam, "when you stop being a jerk."

His brother rewarded him with a smack on the back of the head while they waited for Giles to open the door. Before Sam could retaliate, Giles was welcoming them inside.

* * *

Sam was sifting through yet another box of books that Dean and Xander had brought from upstairs. Even though he and Willow, and sometimes Xander, had been trying to help Giles unpack and catalogue his books, this was now the repository for a good portion of the school library, and there were boxes upon boxes throughout the apartment. Giles was fairly certain he'd kept the only most dangerous ones upstairs with his collection of Watchers' Diaries, but the information Buffy needed might be in one of them. Dean had eagerly jumped at the chance to do some grunt work, with Xander not too far behind him.

"Okay," said Oz from somewhere near the kitchen. "I'm either borrowing all your albums or I'm moving in."

"Oz, there are more important things than records right now," Giles said. He was starting to look a little frazzled as the wall of boxes encroached upon the diminishing open space.

"More important than this one?"

Sam glanced up to see Oz holding up _Loaded_ by The Velvet Underground. Although Oz had mentioned Giles' albums before, Sam still had a hard time reconciling the fact that Giles listened to the same music that his father and brother preferred.

"Yes, well," said Giles, "I suppose an argument could be made..."

"Hey," Dean said, dropping a box on the table with a thud, "is that what I think it is?"

He walked over and joined Oz on the floor. Sam shook his head. Giles had just grown infinitely cooler in his brother's eyes.

"Speaking of," Oz said, hopping onto his feet. "I got something for you."

He grabbed a shoebox that was sitting on a chair by the door and handed it to Dean.

"What's this?" Dean flipped open the lid to reveal a bunch of cassette tapes. "Dude. Dude! Metallica, Motorhead, AC/DC - Zepplin! This is awesome, Oz, thanks. Wait, what's this? Who's Weezer?"

"That's mine," said Sam. He walked over and pulled a couple more tapes from the box. "And these."

Dean raised an eyebrow as he looked at the band names written on the cases. "I hope you don't expect to my baby to be playing that sh—crap. Because driver chooses the tunes."

"Oh, yeah, I almost forgot." Oz pulled a Walkman from his backpack and gave it to Sam. "Won't be needing this anymore. I have graduated to the digital age, man."

"If we could all focus on the matter at hand," Giles said before Sam could do more than give Oz a quick thanks. "I think it would be best if we moved some of the boxes that we've already examined upstairs. It's getting a bit crowded here."

The gang murmured their assent. Sam and Willow began separating the boxes that they'd gone through while Dean, Xander, and Oz started bringing boxes upstairs.

"Whoa," Xander said. He shifted a stack of boxes so that everyone could see his discovery. "Giles has a TV. Everybody look at this. Giles has a TV! He's shallow like us!"

"Gotta admit, a little disappointed," said Oz in an even voice that sounded remarkably similar to his earlier enthusiasm over the albums.

"I'm not—" sputtered Giles. "It's not—"

"Maybe it doesn't work," Willow said. She cast a nervous glance at her mentor. "It's like... art."

Xander turned a knob, and the screen flickered to life. Willow's face fell, and she looked at Giles with dismay.

"I—Public television—" said Giles, attempting to defend himself.

Sam didn't see what the big deal was. Uncle Bobby was almost as well read as Giles, but still watched TV once in a while. Then again, he didn't have Giles' air of British refinement.

"Oh, cool," Dean said as he came down the stairs, "a TV!"

"Look, everyone, we have vital work to do." Giles slammed his book closed. "Television isn't going to help us now."

"—around noon today in Brookside Park," announced the newscaster. As she spoke, the camera zoomed in on a large crater in the center of a grassy field. "Officials attributed the formation of the sinkhole to unexplained weakening of the topsoil support nearby. City work crews deny that any tunneling has been done in the area..."

"Tunneling," said Oz, echoing the newscaster's words.

"Spike," Giles said. He set down his book and strode towards the door. "Come on. Xander, Dean, find Buffy and meet us there."

Dean was already halfway to the door by the time Giles finished issuing his orders.

"Giles, wait," Willow said. "What if she's coming here?"

"You're right. I should stay here," said Giles. "Oz, you'll take Willow and Sam?"

"Hang on," Dean said. "Where Sam goes, I go."

Sam resisted the urge to roll his eyes. His brother _would_ choose this moment not to trust Buffy's friends to take down a vampire. A vampire who was nearly impossible to kill. Maybe it wasn't such a bad idea to have him come along.

"Xander, she's in English now," Willow said, "so she'll either be back in our room or on her way by the time you get there."

Xander nodded and headed for his car.

"Remember, Dean, only a beheading will work if he's got the gem," said Giles, ushering them out the door. "Good luck. I'll call you if she arrives here first."

"Thank you, sir," said Dean. "I'll do the same."

Sam's head snapped up at the word his brother had used to address Giles. The rest of them may not know what it meant to Dean, but he did. Giles had earned more than coolness points today.

* * *

The crypt was located about a mile or two from the sinkhole. They ran into a couple of Spike's minions, who were easily dispatched by Dean. He'd insisted on leading the gang while Sam guarded the rear.

When they came to the end of the tunnel, they saw a hole drilled into the stone slab above. It was large enough to fit through, but they could only go one at a time.

"We should throw in a flare so you can see what's up there," said Sam in a low whisper.

"And alert him to our presence?" Dean said, raising an eyebrow at the suggestion.

"Why don't we wait until he comes out?" Willow looked nervously towards the dark circle. "Or at least until Buffy gets here."

Oz didn't say anything, just stared at the hole, his nostrils flaring.

"Giles said that beheading still works," Dean said. "I can take him."

"Dean, you're probably a really go—great hunter," said Willow, "but Spike's really dangerous. He's killed two Slayers in the past."

Anger flashed in Dean's eyes. Sam wasn't sure if it was because Willow was questioning his skill as a hunter or if it was because he didn't want to see Buffy's name added to Spike's tally. Either way, if Willow had been trying to dissuade him from going, her words had the opposite effect.

"There's only one vampire," Oz said. "I'm gonna go with Harmony based on the perfume. Unless you consider Spike to be a floral kinda guy. I tend to think he'd be more of a sandalwood."

Sam shot a glance at his brother. He was looking at Oz with a mixed expression on his face. On the one hand, he seemed impressed, but on the other, he was wary of people with unique talents.

"You're sure?" Dean asked.

"I'm sure," said Oz.

"You know," said Dean, "one of these days, you're gonna tell me how you do these things."

"But not today," Willow said, tugging on Dean's sleeve. She pointed to the hole above them. "You should throw the flare. Harmony's not going to attack."

"She attacked you," said Sam. He remembered Xander saying that Harmony was responsible for the band-aid on Willow's neck.

"She barely drew blood." Willow peeled back the bandage to show two little scabs on her neck, each not much larger than the head of a pin. "Besides, it's Harmony."

"It's okay, Sammy," said Dean, pulling a flare out of their weapons bag. "I've met Harmony. I'm pretty sure I can take her. Even if she's wearing the gem."

He tossed a flare into the hole and then grabbed a crossbow, loading it with some wooden stakes. Sam helped hoist his brother through the opening so that Dean's hands were free to defend himself.

A few minutes later, Dean called down from the hole. "If she's up here, she's hiding. Come on up."

Sam helped Oz up, then lifted Willow. As he pulled himself through, the crypt came into view. It was more like a very large room, full of musty air and tattered drapes that lined the stone walls. Twinkles of red, gold, green, silver, and blue came from every corner of the room, hinting at the treasure beyond the light of the flare.

"I'm guessing this here's One-Eyed Willy," said Dean. He was standing by a stone slab in the center of the room where a skeleton lay. Its head had rolled off and was resting at Dean's feet.

"Dean, that would make us the Fratellis," Sam said.

"No way," said Dean. "I'm totally a Goonie."

Sam shook his head. He knew exactly which one of the Goonies his brother would be. Sweeping his flashlight around the room, his beam landed on a table littered with more gold and jewels. But it was the sparkle of a diamond-encrusted crown lying on the floor that caught his attention. It looked like it should be up on the table. Instead, it was a few feet away – too far for it to have rolled off.

As he walked towards the crown, he heard a gasp from behind a rotten curtain. Four flashlights swung towards the sound.

"Harmony?" said Willow.

A girl with long blond hair emerged. She might have been pretty if her features weren't marred by the ridged forehead that marked her as a vampire.

"Being a vampire sucks," said Harmony. Her lower lip trembled beneath her visible fangs. Sam almost felt sorry for her.

"Harmony, where's Spike?" asked Dean, moving closer, slowly raising the crossbow. "Does he have the gem?"

She hesitated for a moment, and then nodded. "He staked me, and he took it. Tried to take it right off my finger. Like I wouldn't have just given it to him? I would've given him anything he wanted. He was my platinum baby, and I loved him."

"Where did he go?" Dean said. He pointed the crossbow at her, underscoring the threat in his voice.

Sam could see the panic rising in her eyes as the others moved closer, forcing her into a corner. She darted past Willow and down the hole, her footsteps echoing as she ran away.

"Dammit," Dean said as his projectile clattered harmlessly onto the floor. "Shoulda staked her when we knew she didn't have it."

"Sorry, Dean," said Willow.

"It's alright," Dean said. "We should head back to Giles'. There's nothing left here."

Oz went down first, catching Willow as she lowered herself down. Sam started to follow, but his brother put a hand on his shoulder, stopping him.

"Help me throw some of this into the bag," said Dean, grabbing a pile of coins.

"We're gonna loot a tomb?" asked Sam.

"Dude, the person it belonged to is long dead." Dean gestured to the pile of bones in the center of the room. "We can pawn this shit and get some cash. Real cash. You can buy your laptop without having to hustle pool with me."

Sam looked around the room at the piles of gold coins and jeweled necklaces. No one had even known this place existed until Spike came along. It wouldn't really be stealing if they took some of it, would it?

"Hang on," Sam said, calling down to Willow and Oz. "Dean spilled the weapons. We'll be down in a sec."

Dean rolled his eyes at Sam's excuse, but he grinned as Sam scooped fistfuls of coins off the table and into the bag.

* * *

_Next up _**Chapter 26: Buffy** Spike's got the Gem, and he's gunning for the Slayer.


End file.
